S<\ 






TWO WOMEN WRONGED 

IN COURTSHIP 
IN CHURCH 
IN COUNTRY 

BY 

REV. ARTHUR CREASY, 

OSWEGO, KANSAS. 



....AUTHOR.... 

Creasy^s Creeds, or, What the World Believes 



SECOND EDITION. 



THE FOLEY EAILWAY PRINTING COMPANY 

PARSONS, KANSAS. 



THE LIBRARY Of 
CONGRESS, 

Two CofHES Received 

MAY. 23 1901 

Copyright entrv 
?rW 2f, /9c o 
CLASS «- **«. N«. 

7 3 5"/^ 

C«PY B. 



CopyrigJited, 1900, 

by 

REV. ARTHUR CREASY. 



\ 



Prefatory notice. 



t5 




T is easy to shape an ideal character on paper. The 
subject of this sketch is not such. When biograpli- 
ers write the truth, our American youth will not 
be so easily discouraged. In this notice the plain 
truth will not be shunned. 

About thirty-eight years ago Arthur Creasy first saw 
the light of day in Framsden, England. The house in 
which he was born was a neat but rough-cast two-story 
cottage, beautifully situated about half way up Fcamsden 
Hill. His father, George Creasy, was a carpenter. His 
mother, a cultured and Christian women of the Free Com- 
munion Baptist church. From his mother he inherited 
that love of letters which now distinguishes him; while 
his father gave him that ready wit, so much admired by 
his friends. From whence came his sturdy self-will, stub- 
bornness, faults, foibles and follies the writer does not 
know. 

When but three years of age his mother was glad to 
rid herself of Arthur by sending him to school. Here he 
was much noticed. His visits to the high school for his 
floggings were so frequent that the older boys gave him a 
new name, the name of Milton's boldest character in the 
lower regions (Milton's "Paradise Lost"). 

He frequently ran away from school, was re-captured, 
re-flogged and re-placed at the foot of his class. School be- 
came so distasteful to him that he spent many school 
hours wading the creek, watching bird and bee in air. 
or stealing young songsters from that shield the mother 



bird alone can give. He pretended to the boys who came 
at morning recess to watch his exploits that he could 
swim in the knee-deep, muddy stream. He iisually went 
to school after his class had recited. He was distingulshec 
for everything except learning his lessons. He carries 
with him yet a feeling close kin to hate for the institution 
where he learned to read, write and suffer. His mother, 
assisted by such help as opportunity offered flogged him 
frequently; but he cannot remember that his father cor- 
rected him more than once in this manner. 

In eighteen-seventy-two his father emigrated to Cana- 
da, taking Arthur with him; because he was ready with 
his pen, and composed quickly. After a year's stay in Sim- 
coe, Canada, the father returned to England, but left the 
boy; because he was determined not to return to his na- 
tive land. This seems strange; but the reasons are mainly 
two: The boy had always hated aristocracy. His return 
to England meant re-submission to an authority he had 
openly detested and often defied. Should he go and re- 
enslave? No; he would remain in Canada, where men 
seemed free and equal. Should he now cringe to that 
ceaseless caste, which had left him unconquered? No, 
never. Then his taste of true Canadian liberty, had not 
only severed him from England; but had encouraged him 
in a very humble ambition— that of some day farming his 
own farm. The beyond was shedding a lingering luster 
around the boy's life. His father, relieved of the restive 
young rustler, who bad already taken "French" leave 
from him once, returned to England. The boy remained 
with Mr. C. W. Smith about three miles from Pt. Dover, 
Norfolk County, Ontario, Canada. Mr. Smith was a well- 
to-do, broad-minded, and kind farmer, who had sheltered 
the boy from cruelty, when he ran away from a place, near 
Simcoe that became unbearable. The boy remained f ' 
five years with this excellent gentleman, and learn- 
something more at school about fighting, but not m'" ..ii 



about figuring and writing. He made much mischief to 
the dismay of the school mistress. 

He was bright-eyed, keen and quick at all else, but 
books. The last flogging administered was for putting a 
gun cap on the stove; which exploded after it was forgot- 
ten. Till about sixteen he never received enough marks 
for a prize, but once. He had a peculiar teacher who 
liked the mischievous boys; and consequently awarded the 
three worst boys (so the neighborhood thought) first, sec- 
ond and third prize. Of course Creasy won a prize. In 
spite of his lack of study, he always excelled in such studies 
as suited his fancy. 

While living with Mr. Smith, and attending the Black 
Creek School, under the teaching of Miss Maggie Abel, of 
Font Hill, a word or two changed him from a useless to a 
very useful boy. The change came as follows: One winter 
day at afternoon recess, Arthur hurridly left the play 
ground to secure his scarf; which happened to be at his 
desk. He found the scarf quickly; and was hastening back 
to his play when Miss Abel said to him: "Why are you 
not as earnest with your studies as with your play, Ar- 
thur?" 

*'Why," said the boy, "what shoul I study /t?^?" "For 
a teacher, " answered Miss Abel; "For a teacher !" "What 
good would that do? I could not control anybody, if I 
did,'' he replied. The teacher said, "You don't know 
that." He went out to play, but that suggestion followed 
him and changed the current of one life at least. 

He became as diligent as he had been idle. Soon after 
he left the kind-hearted Mr. Smith; because the latter 
was retired and really had not enough work for such a 
restive rustler. He engaged with a neighboring farmer; 
and made about fifty dollars that summer, but spent it all 
for trifling nothings. So that in the fall he continued 
.^rking two months to get money enough to buy him a 
.'lit of clothes. Fortunately for the boy, Mr. Smith had a 
good natured son-in-law (Mr. William Corbett, now of Port 

9 



Dover) who interceded to get him back to his old home for 
one winter more. Mr. Smith took him back on condition he 
would occasionally stay at home from school to saw wood — a 
condition never once imposed. 

During this winter and the succeeding summer (in 
which he hired with Mr. William Corbet t) the boy's prog- 
ress was remarkable. He led the school in many mental 
contests. But his hard study left him time enough to con- 
tinually dispute with his teacher, Mr. Adam Fisher. Every 
inch of educational ground had to be guaranteed to the 
young aspirant. Of course this was not merely impolite^ 
but wrong. His teacher often said of this pupil: "He's 
clever but too high spirited to succeed, especially as a 
teacher.'''' 

About eighteen hundred and eighty he graduated at 
the head of his class in the Port Dover public school, under 
Mr. William Smith. He pushed on, working for farmers 
Saturdays and holidays, till he secured a certificate to 
teach. When a model he was remarkable for the strict- 
ness of his discipline. 

He began his teaching in No. 9 Woodhouse near Dover. 
One director, a Mr. Geo. Davis, an Englishman, protested 
in vain against Creasy's election. But Mr. Jas. Jamieson 
said Creasy had passed well and is able. Give him a chance. 
Mr. John Boss was with Mr. Jamieson, and Creasy began 
his career as a teacher — Mr. Davis persisting, "He was the 
worst boy I ever knew, when he lived at Smith's." At the 
end of his first term. Creasy was unanimously re-elected. 
The next year he taught No. 10, a larger school. Here he 
remained three years, having had an advance in his salary 
as often as his engagement would permit. In point of 
salary^ this school reached a place under Creasy, never 
equaled before or since. No change in directors took 
place in these three years. His directors were Messrs W. 
E. Armstrong, Jno. Hair and John McNeil. His discipline 
was so remarkable that he was chosen by Dr. J. J. Wads- 
worth, County Superintendent, to lecture on "Order in 

10 



School," ''School Management," etc. at the county in- 
stitute. His philosophic cast of mind, -scientific method, 
and unusual energy impressed the convention much, if we 
may judge by lengthy discussion and long newspaper para- 
graphs. He made no pretense to Christianity; but main- 
tained that the teacher's mission was to guide that God- 
given activity in every child— never to suppress it. • His 
three school directors were present at Simcoe to hear this 
address. 

After this he spoke as often as posaible in public, and 
was noted for his sudden and successful attacks upon other 
speakers, rather than for his own good speaking. For in- 
stance once in Woodstock, Canada, at an association of 
teachers, one gentleman stated that the form of pronouns 
decided their case. Creasy said, ''That is not so." The 
speaker, much irritated, held his ground till Creasy said, 
•'Iseeyou; you seeme. Now you have two you's one ac- 
cusative and one nominative. Have they different forms? 
A general laugh followed, except in the case of the man 
who had just read his paper on grammar. 

In No. 10 Creasy purchased a swing, croquet set, Indian 
rubber balls, etc. for his pupils. He maintained that "a 
body moves toward the greater force;" and made his 
school the greatest force in the neighborhood. He drew 
pupils from neighboring districts. 

He taught afterwards at Virgil and Queenston, On- 
tario, Canada. After six years of teaching one hundred 
per cent of pupils he sent up for examination had suc- 
ceeded. Two went up against his wish. One of these 
succeeded with one mark to spare. The other failed. It 
may be well to explain that in Canada the teacher does 
not set his own questions nor examine his own) pupils. He 
prepares the pupil only. 

He was called the new-system man. This expression 
had two leading causes, (a) His unusual originality: and 
(b) he had carefully studied the methods of teaching of 
ages long past, combined what he thought good in them 

11 



and pushed most enthusiastically this combination. He 
often taught Saturdays, recesses and evenings. In No. 10. 
he walked eight miles on Saturday afternoon to prepare 
two pupils for examination. 

In eighteen hundred eighty-six Creasy was graduated 
from the Ingersoll College with high honors. He had at- 
tended two years to the annoyance of most of his teachers. 
They were glad he passed— out of their sight. 

He had attended this institution to have the teaching 
of its superintendent, Mr. F. W. Merchant, who left be- 
fore Creasy was graduated. The latter disliked Mr. Mer- 
chant's mathematical successor much, without any reas- 
onable cause. He left no stone unturned to discuss every- 
thing and nothing. It seems strange that this insolent 
pupil escaped expulsion. He ceased to attend class for 
some sciences; but prepared very successfully alone. His 
teachers predicted failure; but, as has been said, ihey do 
not set the questions or examine their own pupils. The 
parties who do are not acquainted with the candidate; as 
he is known by number. This insures stern justice. 

Creasy 's sparkling wit and rich humor, combined to a 
ready tongue, would have made him a general favorite 
with teachers and scholars, had it not been for his cynical 
indifference to some of his best teacbers. As it was the 
boys said, "Creasy is the life of this institution." In 
eighteen hundred eighty-eight he was graduated from 
Ottawa Normal. Creasy was born with a hatred to aristo- 
cracy, which he boldly manifested in that land of aristo- 
crats, England, when only nine years of age by refusing to 
follow the teachings of his parents in bowing to John 
Talmash (afterwards Lord.) Instead of bowing he walked 
with head erect and defiant, when he met Talmash 's 
carriage-and-four with Mr. Talmash himself driving. He 
expected the coachman would alight and flog him severely; 
but he would rather ttiis than submission. Much frighten- 
ed, he sought refuge by hiding in a ditch, covered with 

12 



thick foliage, till the distant rumble of the carriage wheels 
informed him that immediate danger had passed. 

To-day he is dear to the masses, the darling of the 
merchant; but not much loved by the privileged classes. 
He is not so narrow as to be unkind to any mortal; but 
thinks that the millionaire can care for himself. His busi- 
ness is to right the wrongs of woman, and the down-trodden 
generally. 

For four years he was superintendent of the Yerse- 
hoyle school, which he resigned for the Baptist ministry. 
During the early part of his four years here, his wife, a 
lovely woman was drowned in the Niagara river, with her 
sister Grace, then sixteen. They had been bathing and did 
not know the Niagara. Mrs. Creasy was about twenty-one 
years of age. 

This very happy marriage had lasted only three years. 
One son, Bertie, then only five months of age had been born 
to them. He has not re-married. After leaving Versehoyle, 
he entered the Baptist College in Woodstock, Canada, to 
matriculate in Greek and Latin. He went after Christmas, 
when the classes were reviewing their year's work; and 
hence made but little progress. However the superinten- 
dent Mr. J. I. Bates, promoted him to the graduating class 
in February, remarking "Creasy, you can do more work." 
He entered the McMaster Baptist university without 
matriculation; but with this recommendation from Mr. 
Bates to Dr. Rand, the Chancellor, "Creasy is capable of 
pursuing any course on your curriculum." 

He studied science, language and theology. While a 
student he had charge of different churches; and was 
honored by a re-call to every charge at the expiration of 
his first term. 

In eighteen hundred ninety six he was called as pastor 
of the First Baptist Church, Oswego, Kansas, a position he 
still holds, (June nineteen hundred.) He was ordained to 
the Baptist ministry in May eighteen hundred ninety-six. 
Some member of the large council called to examine the 

13 



candidate, had heard that Creasy said he wanted a severe 
test of his ability. He does not remember such a state- 
ment. But the test was supreme. The candidate did not 
hesitate an instant nor fail on a single question. His or- 
dination was immediate and unanimous after the examina- 
tion. His Canadian friend, Rev. H. Gr. Fraser, of Parsons, 
and others were proud of such a candidate. Local editors 
said, "He went through flying." 

His congregations are large. Since his coming to 
Oswego, his membership in this church has more than 
doubled. His originality and radical views have carried 
his name all over the Union. Such papers as the '■'Mail 
and Breeze;'''' ^* Kansas City Journal;'''' ''''St. Louis Post Dis- 
patch',''^ etc. have sent entire paragraphs from his sermon 
all over the land. He preaches that preachers should pay 
one hundred per cent of the market price for all articles. 
He pays it everywhere and always. He pays three cents 
per mile on railroads Instead of one and one-half, as it is 
the custom for ministers. He consistently clashes with 
privileged classes. His great sympathy has created a de- 
mand for the publication of many of his funeral addresses. 
He has;more'than his share of non-church-going friends. 
Entire families when asked to what church they belonged, 
have answered: "We don't belong to any church, but are 
Creasy people. He has much more than his share of both 
weddings and funerals. He refuses pay for funerals, but 
his marriage fees alone support him. The merchant and 
business class pay more than his own church on his salary. 
He draws large crowds, not by his intense earnestness 
alone; but by his eccentric advertising. He had a long 
rhyme printed about Talmage in the palace car on a visit 
to the Czar etc. etc. on one occasion. Again he has bills 
printed like this, Wanted! Men! Baptist Church etc. In 
speaking he adopts the dramatic lecture plan. He has 
given a series of lectures on astronomy alone in this city. 
At the end of addresses he encourages questions from his 
audience. He lectures on, "Uncle Sam's Navy;" "Klon- 

14 



dykes Hidden;" "Famous American Men and Famous 
American Women" etc. An author not long since express- 
ed surprise to find Creasy so orthodox from the pulpit, in 
creed dbt lesist. The Used- to-Be's consider him heterodox. 
He is not simply abreast of, but much beyond the age. He 
cynically censures that Christianity which begins and ends 
with one's own family. He holds in contempt the idea 
that a man can be a Christian and his wife and children 
not know it. 

The late Mrs. Dollie Harrison in speaking of the 
author to Mrs. N. A. Eead, of Oswego, said: "Well, Mr. 
Creasy has lived with me three years; and I have said 
things to him just to tantalize him. I had a right to test 
him; but 1 have never seen the least change in that man. 
He is a Christian." 

Mr. C. M. Condon, a very prominent banker, of Oswego, 
Kansas, said of the author: "If he is not an honest man, 
I don't know where in the world we shall go to find one." 

He holds the outside and the workers inside his church 
in a firm grasp. The Do Nothing's, Know- All's and Say- 
Much 's in his church have met people they love more than 
they do Creasy. Without once flinching he lifts the vail 
from their hypocrisy. He is bold beyond prudence. In 
fact he is reckless. A position is less than an hour to him. 
His sarcasm is unreasonable. He will take more than a 
page in a newspaper to answer a single sentence some un- 
fortunate has ventured against /^/m. Of late, when Creasy 's 
genius is recognized or his name follows an article, other 
local pens paralize. 

As a debater he is quick, witty, fluent and good- 
humored. He refuses to speak on any side, except where 
his sympathy lies. In defeats he is as smiling as in victory. 
He has never been seen angry or even annoyed at a debate. 
He is master of himself, 

"How long will he remain in Oswego?" is often asked. 
We do not know. About two years ago the political party 
that claims the author despaired of a certain ward in Os- 

15 



wego; because they had frequently lost it. In fact we may 
say always. They ran Creasy in said ward. The argument 
against him, by his political foes, was: "He's not a fixture." 
His friends answered, "He'll do good work while he stays." 
He was elected. 

The intensity of his pride makes him appear arbitrarily 
arrogant. Once when a boy, he had failed to secure work 
on the Welland Canal, Canada, was out of money, and far 
from home. It was in April. The ground was wet and 
cold, but the author slept on it, drenched in rain, rather 
than ask shelter. He also went without food a couple of 
days, till he reached home. He says he sat on a railroad 
track (the Hamilton and Lake Huron,) about two miles 
from Port Dover, and a mile or two from Capt. McFell's, 
where he made his home. He found the tie on which he 
sat dished in the direction from which he had come. So 
be sat with his face in that direction. He fell asleep. 
When he woke he was walking away from McFell's, and 
had returned to Long's School House, a mile from his rest- 
ing place, perhaps. He worked for a very cruel farmer 
that summer (whosename he will not mention here) for $50 
and board for five months. He saved his money to attend 
school that winter. The result has been given. 

Next to Creasy's arrogant pride, making it almost im- 
possible for him to ask a favor, except of a favored few, 
comes what some call determination. But determination 
is too weak. He has the desperate tenacity of one drown- 
ing. The woman who finally became his wife absolutely 
refused his first proposal of marriage. This would have 
sufficed for most men. Not so with Creasy. He persisted 
several years after this with final success. He studied 
music about a year before he could tell "Rock of Ages" 
from "Yankee Doodle." He could not step to music. In 
1888 he studied music in the Ottawa Normal very hard in- 
deed, and made 15 marks out of a possible 200. His peda- 
gogy marks were high. In 1894 he again studied music in 
Toronto, Canada, under a Miss Hannah Klinck. He suc- 

16 



ceeded In learning two tunes. Since then he can sing ordi- 
nary hymns, etc., if he can see the notes. 

In 1891 he preached his first sermon in a Methodist 
Cliurch at Dereham Centre, under the Eev. Thomas Boyd. 
This sermon surprised the "Centre" who said Creasy can- 
not continue to preach such powerful and profound 
sermons as that. They were right; for he frequently failed 
in pulpit after this. Again and again he broke down in 
the middle of his address. However, he refused to use 
notes or headings. His friends and foes urged him to use 
notes or quit. He did neither. But in about eight years 
he conquered. As early as midsummer. '97, his impromptu 
speaking secured his election as delegate to the inter- 
national B. Y. P. U. convention at Chattanooga, Tenn. 
He is frequently selected for the leading address at associa- 
tions. When he began his speaking, his voice could hardly 
be heard by the audience not immediately in front. Now, 
he is distinctly heard in every part of a large opera house. 
He has carefully studied the art of speaking from every 
possible standpoint. In public or private speaking his 
entire manner changes. His stern features relax, and his 
vivacity, tho' under complete control, is wonderful. He 
thinks Prof. Shaw, elocutionist of Toronto, Canada, in two 
years' training at the university, did more for him in voice 
power, than any one else. He has held his present position 
longer than any other man in this church, except one. He 
never comes down to his audience; but tries to bring them 
up to him. He is dreamy and imaginary, but vivid in the 
description of God's handiwork, as found on mountain, 
stream, in cloud, or valley. He observes his illustrations 
in woods, sky or water. 

He hates gossip. In his pastoral work no amount of 
questioning can elict the news from him. The late Mrs. 
Dollie Harrison, provoked at the author's reticence, said: 
"He's the greenest man I ever knew about what's going 
on, but he has lots-in that head of his. I have quit my 
dictionary now; as he tells me, and I have found out he's 



right every time. What I can't make out is that such a 
man should stay with us. He doesn't know what's in him 
yet, I guess. 

When the horizon is black with stormy words, waiting 
to waste all beneath them, Creasy 's foes never tell what 
Creasy said\ but what he did. When others rage, he is as 
calm as if the storm had passed. He cannot be provoked 
into loss of temper. He often defeats his foes by con- 
fusing propositions. Knowing most people can see thro' 
only one thing at once, he gives them a choice middle, and 
thus defeats them. He knows how to seemingly yield 
with grace. But he never really yields. He only waits. 
Then in a round-about way brings back the old proposi- 
tion, dressed in a new garb; and pushes it on to success. 
Virtue can wait; tho' Vice is in haste. He never seems to 
be in a hurry in case of a crisis. He waits. 

Mentally he is very quick; but desperately slow to 
change. Whether an analogy between the physical and 
mental man exists or not, we do not know. But in 1890 
Creasy 's tenacity led him to swim the Niagara River, near 
Lake Ontario, where the stream is a mile or more wide, 
and has a current of six miles per hour. All his life has 
been such a struggle. Friend and foe have banded against 
him in vain. 

In his lirst position as pastor of a church (in Spring- 
field, Elgin Co., Canada) he took a church that had been 
closed for two years previous to his pastorate. A certain 
lady had control of a thousand dollars willed this place to 
erect a Baptist chapel. The members were rent in twain 
over the kifid of a church. Some were for brick and others 
for d, frame building. Creasy secured this thousand dol- 
lars; and immediately decided on a brick building, which 
soon appeared. He simply does not care what people want. 
A Presbyterian gentleman in this village, in speaking of 
the author, said: "That Creasy hues to a line, and is reck- 
less for the fall of the chips. " Better m^n than Creasy had 
failed ■■ in the erection of this chapel. Yea, even that 

18 



marvel, the home mission board, had withdrawn like a 
spoilt and sulky bahy, baffled by obstacles too great for this 
arbitrary and all-wise body, after futile efforts to rear this 
building. 

He Is generous to a fault. He gives a\vay his money 
and clothing to tramps, buys dolls for little girls; marbles 
for boys; engages livery rigs to take children driving, etc. 
He will borrow or beg to help a friend in a tight place: 
but is resentful if his confidence is once betrayed. 

When he and his foe meet on common ground, he waits 
till the conversation naturally turns to some one his foe 
hates. Then in the smoothest, most affable manner, he 
grows enthusiastic in his praise of his foe's foe. This is 
downright meanness. Creasy never betrays; but will at 
last even up with Judas. 

He works of late about four hours a day, and writes 
a thousand lines of poetry every month. He takes long 
walks — often tramping nine miles. When "off duty" he 
goes thro' the town, talking, joking and laughing, with the 
citizens— tho' he says nothings© to speak — playing marbles 
with little boys, skipping ropes for little girls, or nursing 
babies or dolls, etc., etc. 

A foe once nominated Creasy for an important office— 
probably to down him— but Creasy stood his ground, and 
was elected by a large majority over several opponents, to 
his own surprise and the chagrin of his foe. His popular- 
ity is unbounded. His foes fear his friends, and handle 
him with gloves. 

Now for his writing. As far back as 1880 Mr. F. W. 
Merchant, M. A., then of Pt. Dover, his teacher, spoke 
frequently and admiringly of this boy's compositions. 
After Mr. Merchant left, Creasy wrote Judson McFell, 
who followed his teacher to Aylmer, Ont., Canada, de- 
scribing the condition of the school. Mr. Merchant begged 
young McJ^'ell to allow him to read these letters. The de- 
sire was granted. In these missives the antics of one Myers. 

19 

(2) 



(John) were described. Mr. Merchant said: "That's it. 
I can see it all. That Creasy will be an author. ' ' 

Creasy's anonymous writings for the Jarvis Record 
(Petit Editor) at this time were credited to Dr. Jno. Mc- 
Lean, of Port Dover. These writings delighted the pupils, 
but enraged the teachers and annoyed the board of direc- 
tors. Had Creasy's hand' been recognized, his expulsion 
from the high school would have been immediate. But 
none ever knew the= author except the editor and Mr. P. 
P. l^ewell, of Port Dover. Fortunately for Creasy's edu- 
cation, he quit writing at Newell's suggestion. He next 
wrote a continued story about '85 for the Jarvis Record, 
describing his own trip to England. This roused much 
comment. 

Subsequent college and University years brought forth 
nothing remarkable. The boys, in their reviews for ex- 
amination, gave Creasy charge of the poetry. He loved 
history, grammar and poetry; but detested theology. 

After locating in Oswego in '96, he took virtually a post 
graduate course alone, thro' the kindness of Judge iS"elson 
Case, who gave him free access to his splendid library. In 
the study of philosophy, Des. Cartes, Spinoza, Kant, etc.. 
Creasy gained that wonderful mental grasp, which now 
distinguishes him. He decides all propositions instantly; 
but changes not unless compelled. 

In July, 1899, he wrote his first poem, "The Battleship 
Maine," which became locally famous. In one month his 
third addition appeared. Soon after his "Dewey at Ma- 
nila" appeared. In less than a year he has produced two 
volumes and is about to publish his fifth edition of poems. 

Entire neighborhoods may be found, where every home 
has Creasy's poems. Five hundred copies of his "Two 
Women Wronged" were sold in Oswego alone. 

His writings teach his relf-reliance and his hatred of 
wrong. For instance, his "Klondyke Hidden" has this 
stanza: 

20 



"I am just what I want to be: 

1 see just what I want to see; 
I go just where I want to go; 

I do just what I want to do. ' 

Then his "Prodigal Daughter" keeps the purpose of 
his life before the public. He knows that the so-called or- 
thodox creed admits the basest forms of selfishness. He 
knows that a large per cent of the church members has 
but little likeness of Christ. They are selfishness incar- 
nated. His contempt of those who love their own only is 
brought out in his "Small People," and then again in 
' 'Our Eehgion. ' ' The first stanza of ' 'Our Eeligion' ' reads: 

"It doth consist in turkey round. 

Just on one's fair table found; 
We just invite our kith and blood, 

To shower blessings like a flood. " 

The purpose of his writing is to reform; and aid 
orphanages, hospitals, colleges, etc., financially. 

T. Elmore Lucey, author Atlanta, Ga., calls Creasy the 
realistic poet, and such he is; but he gathers his inspiration 
and best illustrations from nature. Tho' methodical after 
a plan of his own, he is as wayward and opposed to restraint 
as in his boyhood. He wanders thro' the woods, valleys, 
and by the Kansas streams often almost all day, absolutely 
alone. He makes no explanation of where he is going or 
when he will return. Sometimes, when Mrs. N. A, Read 
confronts him, on his return, with the news that he lost a 
wedding fee by his wanderings, he simply laughs and says, 
"Well, I made more than that. He is very fond of power, 
but indifferent to the money power. 

Some time since a Mr. Neil came on Tuesday to engage 
Creasy to marry him some miles from Oswego the next 
day. Mr. :Neil was very anxious for Creasy to officiate. He 
remained several hours in Oswego, waiting for the return 
of the latter. In vain. He inquired at the livery stable 
(Fisher's), and the men there said: "We don't know 

21 



where he went or when he will return. He never tells us. 
All we know is, he is good to the horses, and we ask him 
no questions." 

He is so abandoned to his writing that he does not 
know the day of the week. [Not long since he was astonish- 
ed to see two high school teachers on the street about ten 
a. m. Addressing one he said: "Arn'^you teaching 
now?" "Oh, yes," was the answer, "but it is Saturday." 
This information about the day of the week, surprised 
Creasy much. Weddings and funerals are all he has not 
yet forgotten. 

It may not be out of place to say that his writings are 
bent towards a reform, occasionally referred to as a frag- 
ment of an address or newspaper article; but perhaps 
never spoken upon or written upon at great length — ohe 
unfair treatment of woman. 

Concerning the man whose inflexible features are on 
the frontispiece of this book we may add : 

He is self-willed, stubborn, arbitrarily dogmatic, tena- 
cious, eccentric, indefatigable in his industry. He writes 
thro' his stenographer in answer to all correspondence tm- 
mediately on receiving letters, so that he owes no one. He 
is clear and very concise. If a correspondence annoys him, 
he returns the letter unopened. . 

He simply will not quarrel. 

He is as biased in his love as in his hate. He never 
forsakes a friend, and never forgives a foe. We speak of 
him as he naturally is. The loss of his young wife so many 
years since softened his nature much. 

He is very popular, never yet losing an appointment, 
when nominated. 

He is cautious in the extreme. In case of dispute, he 
is silent till he meets his foe in public. His memory is as 
tenacious as he. Not long since a foe tried to remove him 
from the chair at a certain meeting of much moment. He 
said: "Sir, four years since you moved (and Mr. So-and-So 
seconded) that I should hold this position always. This 

22 



time is not exempt. He held the chair, and carried every 
other point in dispute. 

In business affairs he seems reckless, but is punctilious 
to a fault. He has a written agreement with his agents, 
his church, everbody with whom he deals. People call 
him "easy" till they clash with him. Not long since an 
agent, trusting to Creasy 's ignorance, claimed $5.00 dues. 
Creasy said nothing, but next day confronted the bewilder- 
ed agent with an account, containing about four pages- 
days, dates, items — which showed (as the agent acknowl- 
edged) that Creasy owed him nothing. 

He seems indifferent to money; but will distinctly re- 
member a 5-cent account for five years, if need be. He 
was never sued, and never goes to law; but brings all 
parties face to face with the written contract. He holds 
to that. 

jSTone doubt his honesty. 

When at school he sometimes studied all night, and 
frequently until three o'clock in the morning. A great 
mistake. As a result he had to be treated for strabismus. 
Dr. Ryerson, of Toronto, successfully treated him for this; 
but he will likely go blind when old. 

He will leave any work, except a funeral, to prepare 
for and take part in a debate, spelling match, etc., with 
cheerful alacrity. He serves in many thankless and 
moneyless offices. His personal dislikes do not effect his 
duty to the public. "He yields not, he, to man nor fate. " 

The Rev. Drs. Thos. Orme (Methodist) of Dereham 
Cr., andMcTavish (Presbyterian) of Toronto, Canada, were 
powerful factors in shaping Creasy 's destiny. The kind 
Jas. B. Gray, St. Catherines, P. S. County Superintendent, 
favored Creasy much. E. C. Corbett and Benj. Dutton, of 
Yersehbyle, helped Creasy much. But the two men who 
shaped his destiny are P. W. Merchant, M. A., and Dr. O. 
0. S.Wallace (when pastor Bloor St. Baptist Church, Toron- 
to, Canada). It was not the former's clear enunciation of 
mathematical problems (tho' this was;>ar excellence) that 

23 



influenced the boy; but it was his teacher's eternal energy 
and unflagging zeal. The boy was conscious of a powerful 
inspiration which came to him as a result of personal con- 
tact with this great teacher. Mr, Merchant took so much 
interest in his pupil, that he kindly offered him money, 
without interest, to complete his course. Of course Creasy 
declined. Creasy has forgotten the mathematics of former 
days (this is not 'ii psychological, but 2^ popular statement), 
but the teacher's influence hangs halo-like around his life 
till to-day. 

The sermons of Dr. Wallace are alike forgotten. But 
the methodical, logical, clear, concise and complete O. C. 
S. Wallace made a marvelous change in Creasy. The lat- 
ter, when living in Toronto, at first attended different 
churches; but left them all for Dr. Wallace's church, be- 
catise the doctor did not read his sermons. This was yery 
fortunate for Creasy; because this able man excelled in 
Creasy 's deficiencies. Creasy 's stay in Oswego had been 
very brief, when his people said: "Why, Creasy knows 
every man, woman and child in Oswego by name. This 
tenacity for faces and names comes to him as the result of 
Dr. Wallace's help. If Creasy did fail in conducting a few 
meetings in the doctor's church as the result of '•'•jocular- 
ity'''') he did not fail to find some of the secret springs 
without which l5r. O. C. S. Wallace would have lived and 
died in obscurity. 

Again, this erratic Creasy had the confidence of the 
very polite Dr. Wallace: — We mean as much of it as the 
cautious doctor could afford to invest in a young man, 
whose eccentricities were so distasteful to his foes, whose 
present was non-prosperous, and whose future was clouded. 
This confidence, such as it was, benefited Creasy much as 
has been seen. * 

We should expect from his birth, strong personality, 
and Canadian rearing that Creasy's love would be divided 
between England and Canada. Such is not the case. 
Creasy is emphatically American. 

24 



t^^ %B^ *^* 

As courtship was, it was so brief, 

That none was known in days gone by; 

For man was great, and lord and chief; 

And woman's part was wed and die. 

Or, if refused this man to wed. 

Because her love another found, 

She found for aye a narrow bed 

In cedar shade beneath the ground, 

Her grave was pointed out in scorn; 

The place was shunned by maidens fair; 

And woman's hope was aye forlorn, 

Who viewed that spot, tho' Love slept there. 

The Indian's strength gained him a wife; 
For wrestler who in Fortune's might 
Could throw each foe in manly strife, 
A choice could have, or wrong or right, 
Of maidens fair, or love' or hate, 
Or treat her well or treat her ill. 
She ne'er was asked; but fixed her fate 
By one who might her tribe's blood spill. 
And leave her when Love's fancy fell 
On face more fair or form more strong. 



Zo 



Yea, Hate itself her doom miglit tell, 
And she to death would then belong, 
In life her form the faggot bore; 
With flint and knife on foot she goes, 
While horse is found forever more 
Her lord to ride to meet his foes, 
When camp is found she builds the fire, 
And moves about her lordly mate, 
And fears some act may rouse his ire, 
Who sullen waits his meal to take 
From her w^ho never once was asked 
To share his joys, yet forced to be 
The slave of one who stands unmasked. 
Her tyrant till eternity. 



The meal is o'er, and, by the fire, 
He finds a place that suits him well; 
And there for sleep he doth retire. 
But cold the place to her befell, 
And meatless, too, the bone she finds, 
For lord of all must have his share; 
And man, so great, must sway the minds 
Of women weak, howe'er they fare. 



In China, too, the woman child 

Is often slain in infant state, 

Tho* mother's mind may drive her wild; 

For man decides this wee girl's fate. 



26 



Because a girl she dare to be. 
And not a boy as papa planned, 
To stem the tide on life's great sea, 
That ship of state be better manned. 



But then this girl who found a grave 
As soon as born in Ganges deep, 
Escapes the ills her sisters gave 
To human race before they sleep 
The sleep of death, so sweet to those, 
Who veiled their lives and hid in dark 
Their beauty ; since the men oppose 
Their rights and e'en deny that spark 
Of light which iilashes from the eye 
Of her who, face to face with man, 
Speaks out her soul that cannot die, 
And must be free as when began 
Her life with man in Eden fair, 
When she beside him stood a queen, 
The fairest form in Eden there, 
The fairest fair that earth hath seen. 



There was a time in England's life 
When women had a second place; 
And wife for wife, without a strife, 
Exchanged might be so that the race 
No mother knew in days of yore; 
And wife was bought by haughty lord, 



Who woed her not and cared not more 
For her, her love, her form, adored 
Not he, so much as horse, bought, 
And sold at last for more than wife 
Had cost when young and fair she brought 
Her lordly tyrant — not thro' strife — 
The dower of self and faith pledged 
To love this man thro ' weal and woe, 
And from his home could not be merged, 
Tho' Love himself should sue to go. 
Her word was naught; she had no place, 
Except apart from mighty powers, 
With slaves he bought she ran her race, 
And spent her weeks, her days, her hours. 



Before these great United States 
The Old World had taught how to live, 
The good ship, Mayflower, dared the fates, 
And crossed o'er sea that she might give, 
Tn ages yet to be her light, 
A light that must forever shine 
On brave and fair without a slight 
To her Old England made repine. 
Because her laws were partial shown, 
And by and for the man were made. 
But woman's wit, be it well known, 
O'er-rides laws 'gainst her in trade. 
And makes men fear her much in fight. 
Explains this, laws 'gainst her in past, 



28 



So oft has she put man to flight, 
That he tried laws unjust at last. 

These laws averse were first thus formed; 

The fair were major in a land 

Where might 'gainst right raged and stormed, 

The women formed a mighty band, 

Laid siege to men in castles strong, 

Till fort on fort fell to their lot 

And filled the land with triumph song, 

But mixed with wail men ne'er forgot. 

The fair were fair in terms to men; 

But men will brook no second place; 

And hence went out to field and fen, 

Where saw they ne'er a woman's face. 

Here fought they fierce among themselves. 

Till all things common did they own; 

And pads and locks were laid on shelves, 

Where nothing else could ere be shown. 

At length these men a council call. 
As chairman took his place on stump, 
He looked as grave as if the fall 
Of sin had come to him in lump. 
And thus addressed this meeting grave: 
^'O' course, my lads you know the trouble 
How women long^have made us rave 
An' now why not return 'em double? 
If we once more agree on plan, 

29 



We'll bring 'em down from their proud place 

By fighten 'em each like a man. 

You know as once I led the race 

Again 'em and was backward forced; 

An' so put in a leader new, 

Who will by all be well indorsed, 

And give him men and not a few. ' ' 

Amid loud cheers the chairman ceased 

And dropped he down beside the stump. 



So then Bill Brag with voice that reached 
Beyond the wood that formed a clump 
Said- * 'Mister Chairman and gem' en, 
I move the laws these women make 
Be taken out and burned by men; 
So all the world may see mistake. " 
This bro't Rob Rude's voice into play: 
"I rise to pint of order, sir," 
"Then state your pint," three voices say, 
But now there was such a great stir 
That all forgot before the calm, 
Possessed again these men most wise 
What caused the storm or what the palm. 
That made so coveted a prize. 
When order was once more regained, 
The chairman calls one, old and bent. 
Who said: "I have to-day been pained, 
As I to you my ear have lent. 
To hear you talk such silly stuff. 



30 



You know I was a diplomatist 

To court in France and found a bluff 

Was better far than to enlist 

For this or that or right or wrong. 

You know this is a woman scrape, 

And we have missed it all along, 

Another miss cannot escape 

The world's most bitter biti! % scorn. 

Let us then fence instead of fight; ^ 

Or else we'll wish we ne'er were born. 

This plan of mine will put to flight 

These women proud as sure as fate : 

And 'tis: "Dress up three boys in red 

And blue and shave and slick not late; 

Then send a message on ahead, 

In which you beg them to admit 

These dandies into their councils. 

Before they go have them all fit 

For part they'll play with these damsels. 

Let Sam Sweet- Voice practice his part: 

And sing that song called 'Home, Sweet Home^ 

So as he'll reach each woman's heart. 

Then let him sing 'Where'er I roam 

I'll take my own my little wife' — 

I can't recall the rest of that — 

But this will pay as sure as life. 

Then let these three the leaders pat, 

And flatter about their fine parts; 

For good address and form and face 

Will win sure place in women's hearts, 



31 



And draw the leaders from their place; 
For love will take a woman's mind 
From dearest wish her heart can know; 
For this she will forsake her kind, 
And leave fair plans to die or grow. 
Train Sam Slick with young Dandy Dude, 
For three long months on campers' ground, 
So that each bears hi aseif not rude; 
And that no ter can be found. 
A woman woes a manly man; 
So train these men their clubs to swing- 
To make each master if you can 
Of self, of voice till each shall sing 
So clear and sweet that angels bend 
And break the blue that hangs above 
That they their ears to song may lend — 
A sonof of home with woman's love. " 



■•o 



Three months from then the women fell. 
Ensnared by net these men had laid; 
And lot of wife to each befell; 
Save some who swerved not nor were paid 
Enough to sue them from what they deemed 
Their right, to rule beside the man, 
And these no man has e'er redeemed. 
For they the "Woman's Rights" began. 



Yet spite of change in woman's former state. 
She has not, feels not, knows not liberty 

32 



In realm that ought and must decide her fate, 

In realm she enters in temerity. 

This realm is love, where she supreme should 

reign; 
For here she anchors her hope, firm and sure. 
But here her lord does not a moment deign 
To give her freedom shall for aye endure; 
For man is king and feels his right in might 

to reign. 



Does he, as man, give woman her ov^n place 
In life, in law, in love, to her so dear? 
Does he in business meet her face to face; 
And grant to her what he perceives quite clear 
To be his right for work by him performed? 
Or does he not exact from her tasks stern 
In store, in schools, where classic lore is 

stormed, 
For guerdon so small that he must need learn 
To shun that work, to beg, to tramp, and 

sleep in barn. 



A man will lift his hat in great respect 
To lady clerk, whom he robs day by day; 
And yet her smiles, her speech, her life expect 
To bring him gain and make his business pay. 
Men, money sharks, with face awry will pray 
To Christ on Sunday morn to bless all earth; 



33 



But Monday and other days with small pay 
Will curse one half the race with wage so 

dearth 
That dress cannot be bought to him pray 

so worth. 



Who says 'tis-just to give a woman wage, 
Far less for work the same in kind, amount 
As man receives who will not thus engage; 
Because man cannot brook so small account? 
Oh, harps the pious moneyed Pharisee: 
''The fair have family none to support." 
But stubborn facts do not with this agreer 
In Western towns science doth us report 
That wives by work keep man and child by their 
effort. 



In law she knows no place among the wise. 

Who listen long to lawyer's plea or wail 

Of plaintiff, trying right or wrong to rise 

Above defendant's hopes on men prevail. 

In temperance cause woman's notes unknown, 

Tho' here she suffers Shame's severest slight; 

And drunkard's dismal dens have well been 

shown 
To plunge her life, her hopes, her all in night, 
As dark as ocean cave that never knew a light. 
Yet some will say that stocks and shares belong 
To man at ten per cent both day and night. 

34 



Bub home is woman's with her joyful song; 
And here she lives and loves to lend her light 
To grace the place her lord thinks little worth; 
And hence to it comes only when the street 
Deserted is by those who gave him mirth; 
For lights drop out and shadows soon do meet, 
Drive him to seek what he has made a cheerless 
hearth. 



Now home, the gateway to two world, will take 
The child who blends in self the now and then 
To bliss in time, where light prevents mistake, 
For mother sheds this light which makes good 

men. 
Home, mother, heaven, blend in one to-day. 
Home is the circle. Love's most lovely light. 
Where three must move in heaven's purest ray. 
These three are father, mother and child bright, 
Who live, and love, and learn in heaven's light 

her might. 
The home will make the mind of man to move 
In time, in tide, his talents that tear down; 
Or build for weal or woe of those who rove 
The sea of life to find a curse or crown. 
The home is mother's most exalted throne — 
The place where cradle she the nation's might. 
The place where force for good is known alone; 
For home is place where heaven borrows li^ht; 
Our home's the place where heaven's rays do 

meet most bright. 

35 

(3) 



If women make the home or waste, 
Why should not she to her own taste 
Supply for it the husband good, 
That all may well be understood? 
You say she does to-day and now; 
But let this book tell us how. 



DRAHA PROPER. 



Dramatis Personge. 

TRUE PATIENCE, who becomes Mrs. Steal-Girl. 

SNAEL STEAL-GIRL, a Cattle Buyer. 

GRAB-ALL, a merchant. 

PLEASE- ALL. 

PEARL PRETTY, a clerk for Grab -All. 

LOVE-LUST, a son of Grab-All. 

DR. E. M. MAKE-HASTE, Admirer of Mrs. Steal-Girl. 

DR. SPEED-GOOD, True Patience' Pastor. 

OLD PULL-BACK, from Tennessee. 

SARAH SPOILT-CHILD, of Brooklyn, I^. Y. 

WANT-ALL, Uncle of True Patience. 

OWN-THE-WORLD. Money Lender of St. Louis. 

KNOW-NOTHING, Steal-Girl's Servant. 

SMOOTH-MAN, Business Man. 

READY-TO-SHIFT, Professional Man. 

WRONG-ALL, a Joint-Keeper. 

SORE-HEAD, Dismissed from Grab- All's Service. 

FAIR-PLAY, an Opponent of Grab- All. 

INDEPENDENT, Self -sustained, Scientist. 

HATE-GOOD, a Gossip. 

KNOW-MUCH. 

Others. 



37 



ACT I. 

SCENE 1. — OSWEGO — PARLOR IN TRUE PATIENCE' 
HOME — TRUE PATIENCE SEATED ON SOFA. 

Enter Servant: Please mum, here's Dr. 
Speed-Good's card. 

True P: Bid him in. 

Enters Speed-Good. 
True P: (Rising and extending her hand) Good 
day, Doctor, how are you? glad you've come; be 
seated, doctor. 

Speed: Thank you much for your kind wel- 
come. I am well. I come so often I wonder you 
do not tire of me. 

True P: You cannot come so often as to wear 
out your welcome; and besides, you have not been 
here for two months. By the way, Doctor, are 
you still engaged on that musical composition, 
"The Other Side of It?" 

Speed: Yes, it will take a year yet. 

True: People are talking much about it. 

Speed: Indeed? 

True: I said, Doctor, that I was glad to see 
■you; the fact is I was about to phone you over 
when your card announced you. 

Speed: Indeed, I shall be glad to help you, 
True. 

38 



True,: Well, you know how sad my life has 
a,ye been. 

You know ray mother died when I was born, 
And father fell dead on a Frisco x>latform, 
Before I reached my thirteenth year of life. 
You know my father's fondness for young Steal- 
Girl; 
And how I promised to wed at sixteen. 
You know too that I am ward to Want- All, 
Who fatVier's wish keeps ever fresh to me. 
Steal-Girl is not much older than I am; 
But has an arm defective as you know — 
[n fact he's failed to do what we hoped for. 
While this is true, my word to father known 
To Uncle Want- All so of ten's been pledged 
And now 'tis given to this same sad Steal-Girl, 
What think you, Doctor, I ought now to do V 

Speed: Before I answer you, my little True, 
I first must ask what marriage means to you? 
Is it uniting two hearts, making one? 
Now marriage does not to this earth belong, 
And preacher, judge probate or laws of time 
Are idle in marriage true as soldier 
J^ainted, on ''painted ship," on painted sea, 
So True, the question is are you mahried, 
Not 8haU you be married to-morrow morn. 
If married now, his glance, his love, the touch 
Of his hand sends your blood in pulses wild 
Thro' your entire being till you're made new 
In presence that you feel to be divine. 



39 



True: I never had such feelings. 

Speed: Because you never loved. 

True: Doctor, what shall I do? 

Speed: Give up this man who loathes what 
you love. You love music. He hates it. You 
love church. He loathes it. You never can be 
married to him. 

True: He is almost converted. 

Speed: Almost will not prevail. 

True: He comes to hear you preach and likes 
your sermons. 

Speed: He does neither. He comes to woo 
wealth that your late father left you. 

True: He enjoyed your sermon last Sunday. 

Speed: He paid no attention to it, but flattered 
you because you like your pastor. You say he is 
almost converted. He is converting more whiskey 
from Wrong-All's joint into his system than ever. 
After that good sermon he enjoyed so much, he 
went to Wrong All's and the boys carried him 
home quite late. Retrace your steps to give up 
this vile wretch. 

True: (Crying bitterly) : You are very unkind . 

Speed: What you think kindness to him is 
cruelty to you. Do you know the secret to that 
withered arm? 

True: He has told me. 

Speed: Did he tell you he was stabbed by an 
Indian in the territory in a drunken spree? 

True: No; suppose these things true. Doctor, 
is he so vile as to be beyond redemption? Are 

40 



you not preaching the divinity of every son of 
Adam year after year? Again do you not teach 
that man's word is God in man? Have I not 
promised my late father, my uncle and Steal-Girl 
that I will marry this man! Shall I a Christian 

be? 

Speed: No, he is not past redemption. But 
your chance to redeem him will be slight, after he 
has your money to work out his own salvation. 
Yes, man's word is God in man. But your father's 
will reads concerning your marriage to this vile 
man, ''if possible," and it is not possible. Your 
father did not forsee what now is. 

True: I think I will wait a year as you have 
often asked. (Exit Speed. ) 

SCENE 2. — True Patience's Parlor. 

( Sharp ring thrice repeated on phone brings True 
Patience from the sofa to answer. She listens.) 
True: Yes, I am at home. Come at once. 

( Rings off. ) 

(Enters Steal-Girl. ) 
True: Good morning. Snarl. Glad you're 

back. 

Steal: I'm glad, too. How are you, True? 
(Kisses her.) I tell you, True, I got a big bunch 
of 'em this 'ere time. I got 'em in Oklahoma. 
Biggest bunch ever crossed the Mississippi, bound 
east. Cattle in good condition, too. Worth fifty 
thousand dollars. I guess the company back east 

41 



will blink when they see 'em. I'm tired of buyln' 
for them fellers back east. 

True: I'm glad you've done well. Do you 
know, Snarl, that I have not a friend that is not 
bitterly opposing my marriage to you? 

Steal: Yes, and why? Because I'm tryin' an' 
tryin' to be somebody. They are down on me just 
for nothin. * I own I drink a little; and used to 
swear; but I am quitting my bad habits for you, 
True; because you are such an angel. No one else 
has ever helped me on to Christ, True, you will 
stay by me, won't you? If not, I'm gone. You 
can save me. Oh, True, don't leave me. 

True: I will not; but I think we had better 
wait a year. 

Steal: No, you have promised me next Wed- 
nesday at 10 o'clock; so we can take the 12:27 Katy 
train north to Parsons to see my uncle Bill. You 
say, too, your word is God in you. Will you break 
God? Now don't I keep my word better than I 
used to; and will you fail? 

True: No; I will keep my word. 

Steal: { Rises, kisses True. ) Well, I must go. 
Next Wednesday, mind (Exit. ) 

SCENE 3. — Steal-Girl's Office. 

(Enter Sore -Head. 
Steal: Hello, Sore-Head. Sit down. (Kicks 
a chair towards Sore-Head) What's the news? 

Sore: News? Why the city is brimming over 
with news. 

42 



steal: Well, what is it? 

Sore: Why the Occupation Tax; your big 
bunch of cattle; and your marriage to that Pati- 
ence girl. Take a drink (hands Steal-Girl a flask.) 

Steal: I don't believe I ought; for the game 
with True is not yet won. I want my wits. Then 
you belong to Speed-Good's church; ought you to 
put that stuff (looking at flask) in my way, when I 
am no church member? What will Speed-Good 
say? 

Sore: J?e say. He don't know nothin'. He's 
the biggest fool I ever saw. 

Steal; (Takes a drink.) Why I tho't he was 
a big educated feller. 

Sore: So he is, but he hent got no judgment. 
He'll never turn me out of his church — he don't 
know enough. 

Steal: What about that tax? 

Sore: Why Know-Much and Mule -Man has re- 
duced it seventy-five per cent, tho' Know-Much 
levied the first tax on his own certain knowledge. 

Steal: (Taking his third drink) : Well, what 
about my marriage to the girl? 

Sore: They only guess at that. But you'll 
tell me all about it, ivon^t you, Snarl? 

Steal: Yes; you see her father wished .me. to 
wed her when she was sixteen. That time has 
come. But her friends kick on it — but most of all, 
Speed-Good. Say, he's a slink, and wants her 
himself, I believe. 



43 



Sore: You have a bad hand, but play well. 
Her friends have a good hand, but play bad. How 
are you handling your cards? 

Steal: That's what T started to tell you, if 
you let me alone, after handing you that stuff you 
take for your live, and I take for general debility, 
ha! ha! ha! I'll tell yer. You see a woman's a 
queer critter. She's a mule if you try to drive 
her, but she can be coaxed. A woman is a great 
believer. They'll all go to heaven, I know. I've 
had experience and find one plan works on 'em 
all. I tell 'em I'm bad — led off when young by 
bad company, but their influence is wonderful for 
good. I tell 'em I do not like to hear Jiltlvy stories^ 
but like a good sermon. You see a woman's a 
very religious animal. Tell 'em they are good, 
but I am bad. At first swear in their company a 
little, apologize a good deal, and gradually get 
down to a Christian conduct. Tell 'em it's all the 
result of their Christian lives. I tell her that the 
preachers keep me out of heaven, but she will get 
me there. I call her my angel, my pure guard, my 
heaven my hope, my all. 

Sore: Will these schemes always work? 

Steal: They always have. 

Sore: But after marriage, can you keep that 
up? 

Steal: After marriage I shall not need to keep 
it up. 

Sore: Remember in this state divorces are 



44 



cheap; and who ever heard of a woman failing to 
get one if she tried? 

Steal: Unthinkable, because of True's relig- 
ion. My business is to catch the bird ; for she owns 
her own cage. 

SCENE 4 — Oswego. Speed-Good's Home. 

Enter Steal-Girl. 

Steal: Good noon, Doctor Speed-Good. 

Speed: How do you do, Mr. Steal-Girl? 

Steal: Well; hope you're well. 

Speed: Never better. Take this rocker ( point- 
ing to it. ) 

Steal: ( Sitting and nervously turning broad- 
rimmed Yankee hat in his hands; crosses and re- 
crosses his limbs. ) Can you do a little piece of 
nice work for me to-morrow at 10 a. m., Doctor? 

Speed: No; for I leave to-night for Kansas 
City, as I speak there to-morrow at 11 a. m. 

Steal: Well, I 'm sorry, and True will feel bad, 
for she's wrapt up in you. I tell you, Speed- 
Good, there's money in it now; and more further 
on, for I shall support your church. Can't you 
telephone that convention and cancel your talk 
there? I shall like a decent sort of weddin,' and 
True she will not feel married without your pres- 
ence. 

Speed: Thank you much. I am sorry for True, 

but cannot marry her to-morrow. 
Steal: Youre a missin' it. 
Speed: (aside): I wish True could miss you. I 

45 



would rather bury her than marry her to this vile 
wretch. 

Steal: Go to; the Judge Probate shall be reaper 
of this harvest, and he'll work much cheaper. 
(Exit.) 

SCENE 5. — Oswego. True Patience' Parlor. 

Guests at Wedding. Probate Judge. 
Probate Judge: Will the gentlemen, Messrs. 
Sore-Head, Fair- Play and the rest, with the Misses 
Grace and Gertrude Grab- All, please take seats on 
right and left of groom and bride. (Probate Judge 
faces groom and bride and dictates position of all 

parties. ) 

Probate Judge: All please rise. ( All rise. ) 
Bride and groom will please clasp right hands. 
( Hands clasped as requested. Judge begins and 
says): Do you, Snarl Steal-Girl, take this woman. 
True Patience, to be your lawfully wedded wife? 

Steal: Yes, sir. 

Probate Judge: Do you further agree to pre- 
serve her, to protect her, to prefer her to all 
others till death separates you? 

Steal: Yes, sir. ^ 

Probate Judge: Do, you. True Patience, pro- 
mise to do by this man what he has just promised 
to do by you? 

True: I do. 

Probate Judge: Then by power vested in me 
by the laws of the state of Kansas, as Probate 
Judge, before Almighty God and these witnesses 

46 



assembled, I declare you man and wife till death 
comes to one or both of you. (Steal- Girl kisses 
his bride, and the Judge and others congratulate 
the "happy pair." Instrumental music, soft, 
sweet, befitting occasion. ) 

INTERLOPED. 

OCCUPATION TAX HALL, 

City Guardians. 

His Angelic Majesty, Lord of All (in chair): 
Guardians, you know our purpose. Begin. 

Mule-Man: I move a wall bull-strong, hog- 
tight and horse-high be built around our fair city 
to embrace the occupation tax. 

Knoiv-Mucli: Seconded. (Motion carries. ) 

Policy^Man: I move that strangers who 
attempt to climb over said wall, dig under it or 
peer thro' it be dealt with by law, (Seconded; 
carried. ) 

Mule-Man: I move sma^Z jointists be punished, 
but Mg jointists go free. (Seconded; carried. ) 

Policy-Man: Allow me to move that million- 
aires be taxed $10 a year, and all small holders $50 
a year. (Seconded; carried.) 

Mule Man: Please, your Angelic Majesty, I 
beg to move that them 'ere picture-frame men be 
placed in the pest house; that a small-pox flag 
float over them for thirty days; that they be fed 
on mouldy bread and unfiltered water during that 

47 



time; then be publicly flogged and banished this 
'ere city. 

His 3'lajesty: No second to this is needed, be- 
cause one of the villains bought the other out of 
the round house, and both have left for a near 
town. (Motion lost.) 

His Angelic Majesty, Lord of All (hearing a 
crowd rushing upstairs, His Majesty, seated in 
regal state, rises and exclaims): Powers celestial! 
What's that? 

Knom: Those a-fightin' us are a-comin.' 
(Crowd rushes in.) 

His Anj. Maj. : Good cheer, citizens. You are 
welcome; take chairs. (Citizens hunt for seats, 
while the city guardians tremble.) 

His Ang. Maj. (continuing): What can we do 
for you, good friends? 

First Citizen: Cut down that 'ere tax. 

Second Citizen'. No! No! No! Not cut doivn, 
but cut out. 

His Ang. Maj.: Gentlemen, becalm yourselves 
and tell us your errand. 

Third Citizen: My errand is to learn why you 
imposed an occupation tax on my science. You say 
it is no business; no nothing; it don't belong no 
place. Then why did you tax it? Do I compete 
with teacher, lawyer, preacher, doctor, merchant, 
anybody? You know I don't. Then do you tax 
my ability F 

Knoiu-Much: We base taxes on our personal 
observation. 

48 



Mule-Man: You Jus' bet we do! (Long and 
hot discussion follows. Exeunt citizens.) 

Smooth-Man (in going down stairs ) : Boys, I 
paid my occupation tax this year; but I won't do 
that again. Next year I'll be one of you. 

Pull-Bach (as crowd goes up street): This 
'ent no way ter do. Away back in sixty, before 
the war, we had no such doin's in Tennessee. 

Canaday: Well, I'm taxed out of business. 
So the guardians may guard what their swiping 
sword has secured. 

(Music, "Yankee Doodle.)) 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. —Mrs. Steal- Girl's Sitting Room, 
Mrs. Steal-Girl, Miss Dreadful, Miss Ne'er-do-well, 
Miss Vengeance, Miss Red-Tape, Mrs. Calvin, 
Mrs. Arminius, Mrs. Worldly, Mrs. Jealous, Mrs. 
Talk-Much and the two Misses Grab- All ( members 
of different churches ) seated around a large table, 
sewing for the heathen. 

Mrs. Talk: Did you hear the news? 

All: No! no! no! What is it? 

Mrs. Talk: Why, the fool pastor of the north- 
east church said from his pulpit last Sunday morn- 
ing that he believed the world's need was Christian 
manhood. He intended to do his best to make 
that manhood as follows: 



49 



1. He thought preachers should not ride for 
half fare on railroads and he was paying full fare 
this year. 

2. He would not ask ten per cent discount on 
goods because he was a preacher. 

3. He thought preachers should pay and be 
paid on principles as precise as push and pluck 
provoke in public places. 

4. The privileged people provoked Provid- 
ence to punish them by public executions during 
Aaron's priesthood. 

5. Privileged people punished our Priest, and 
Prophet, aud Propitiator by piercing His hands 
and feet and side, while on the cruel cross, where 
they had placed Him. 

6. He said. Divines deny divine healing. 
The Bible says '^Christ is changeless;" but divines 
deny this statement and state why He has changed. 

7. Privileged people pushed Jesus out of 
Nazareth, out of the cities, out of the churches, 
out into the wilderness, out of the world. 

8. Speed-Good stated: Dear friends, what you 
have, eat, wear, pay on passenger trains, etc., is 
good enough for me. I stand, after four years of 
preaching in this pulpit, upon the strength of my 
own manhood in Christ alone. Please place me in 
your pulpit, outside the privileged people. I am a 
man. 

In politics my policy places tax according to 
a man's holdings. Tax all according to expert,. 

50 



sworn statement of assessor. Let the $200 man 
pay double the dollars the $100 man pays, etc. , etc. 

Miss Dread: How dreadful. 

Miss Ne'er: He's too fast. 

Miss Bed: We'll get him out of our church 
and city. 

Mrs. Cal: What is to be will be. There's no 
use to fight it. 

Mrs. Arm: That's a foolish doctrine. 

Mrs. Steal: Then you believe that what is 
not to be will be, do you? 

Mrs. Arm: Why of course not. 

Mrs. Jeal: I hate him. So do many others. 
Our pastor is placed high in the public eye. All 
speak well of him. 

Mrs. Gal: '* Woe unto thee when all men shall 
speak well of thee. " 

Mrs. World: Speed- Good is just my style of 
man tho' I do not belong to his church. He is a 
member of every lodge in town; so am I. (Laugh- 
ter. ) He drives fast horses; so does Worldly. He 
plays all kinds of games; and so do I. He is edu- 
cated; and so is Worldly. He's fine on baseball; 
and so is Worldly. He's good in music; and so is 
Worldly. My husband says Speed-Good can 
size up a horse as well as a man who don't 
pretend to preach. The other night Speed- Good 
came to our place and played with us till night 
was nearly gone. 

Miss Dread: Oh, how dreadful! 



51 
(4) 



Miss Bed: Our pastor does that. 

Mrs. Gal: It was not so ordained. — 

Mrs, Arm: (breaking in): But it is so; so 
what becomes of your predestination? 

Mrs. Gal: I had not finished. I meant to say, 
it was not ordained at first. 

Miss Ne^er: Speed-Good don't know nothin'. 

Mrs. Steal: He is right or not right in his 
statements last Sunday. Now which is it? 

Miss Ven: He'll be right when we have our 
rights; and that won't be till we have a right to 
right the wrong he's doing in this city by his 
teaching. 

Mrs. Steal: Have we a manly Christianity? 

Mrs. Jeal: Yes. 

Mrs. Steal: (turning to Mrs. Calvin): Who 
conduct your church, the men or the women? 

Mrs. Gal: The women except the voting. 
The me7i engage the pastor. But we j^cty him. 

Mrs. Steal: (to Mrs. Arm): Mrs. Arminius, 
who conduct your Sunday school, your young peo- 
ple's junior and senior societies, men or women? 

Mrs. Arm: Women. 

Mrs. Steal: (to Mrs. Red). Mrs. Red-Tape 
you were $200 behind on your pastor's salary last 
year. Who raised it? 

Mrs. Bed: Two women. 

Mrs. Steal: Speed-Good says our need is a 
manly Christianity. It does look like it to me. 

BIrs. Gal: We had a special meeting all last 



52 



week, and one night we had just sixty women, 
with forty children and only six men. 

Jfrs. Bed: Maybe it was raining. (Laughter.) 

Mrs. Arm: More likely it was lodge night. 

Mrs. Steal: You know our church is by women 
kept up. Well, Tuesday last I found two of our 
men engaged in whittling sticks to pass the time. 
They held the fort on street Main as I passed. 
I asked them come to meeting right away. 
They shifted some and looked for place to hide; 
But, finding none, one said it was too cold, 
While the other said he had not time that day. 
This is a manly Christianity! 

Mrs. Arm: We had one man with us last night. 

Several Voices: Who? 

Mrs. Arm: The pastor. 

Mrs. Gal: What kind of meeting? 

Mrs. Arm: Prayer for colleges. 

Mrs. World: Speed-Good is right in paying 
full fare on train. Worldly says so. Worldly 
wants Speed-Good to stay with us. He's the first 
preacher Worldly ever wanted in our home. 

Tlie Two Misses Grab- All: (Grace speaking): 
We like him. So does papa. 

Mrs. Ne'er: 1 hate Speed-Good because every 
old tramp loves him. 

Mrs. World (angrily rising): So you mean 
that my husband is a tramp? 

Mrs: Ne'er: (frightened): No! No! No! I know 
that Speed Good does more for toughs and tramps 

53 



and thieves than others do. I saw him to-day 
take one home to feed. He takes to tramps far 
better than to we. 

Miss Dread: Isn't it dreadful? 

Mrs, Cal: I don't believe in what he said Sun- 
day. 

Mrs. Steal, About what? 

Mrs. Cal: Divine healing. 

Mrs. Steal: He said all healing — medical or 
any other method, or no method — was divine heal- 
ing. 

3Iiss Gertrude Grab: Papa does not believe 
that. 

Mrs. Cal: I don't believe it. 

M7's. Steal: Well, how many powers are there? 

Mrs. Cal: Two. 

Mrs. Steal: What are they? 

Mrs. Cal: Divine and diabolical. 

Mrs. Steal: You grant that people are healed? 

Mrs. Cal: Certainly. 

Mrs. Steal: Which power heals them, the di- 
vine or the diabolical? 

Mrs. Cal: Why, I suppose the divine. 

Mrs. Steal: Well, isn't this divine healing? 
(No answer. ) 

3Iiss Ne'er: I don't like his being barbered by 
a barber and his having his shoes shined by a shoe- 
black. 

Miss Bed: No, indeed! My pastor shaves him- 
self and shines his own shoes. 



54 



Mrs. Arm-. Yes, because he's too lazy to climb 
a barber's chair. 

(Exit Miss Red-Tape.) 

Mrs. Gal: He can't afford to do that. 

Mrs. Steal: He says he can't afford not to pat- 
ronize these honest industries. He does as he 
thinks Christ would do. 

Mrs. Arra: Speed- Good's doctrine about the 
devil is a devilish doctrine. ( Laughter. ) 

Voixies: Of course it is. 

Mrs. Cal: I am the same mind as Sister Ar- 
minius. 

Miss Dread: It 's a devilish, dreadful doctrine. 

Mrs. Steal: His doctrine is the devil deals 

alright. 
The devil does our dirty work for us, 
Then disappears and delays till demand 
We service once again from him. 
He says the devil gentle is and mild. 
While waits for us, polite as any child. 

President: It is time to adjourn. (Exeunt all.) 

SCENE 2. — Same Place. 

Mrs. Steal-Girl, Mrs. Worldly, Miss Ne'er-do- 
Well, Mrs. Jealous, Mrs. Talk-Much, Mrs. 
Haughty (sewing around a large table). 

Mrs. Talk: (to Mrs. Steal-Girl): I hear your 
pastor's prayers long has quit. 

Mrs. Steal: Indeed! I have not heard. 

55 



Mrs. Talk: Didn't lie say so yesterday? 

Mrs. Steal No. ( Long silence. ) 

Miss Ne^er: I know he did. 

Mrs. World: I beg to differ. I was at church 
and know what was said. 

Mrs. Talk: Then what did he say? 

Mrs.Jeal: I heard some forty people say he 
said so. 

3Irs. HaugJi: I would not talk about such a 
crank (very bitterly spoken. ) 

31rs. Steal: In my home you shall not malign 
my pastor. (Exit Mrs. Haughty.) 

All, except Miss Ne^er-do- Well: You are right, 
Sister Steal- Girl. 

Mrs. Talk: I said what Dame Report has told. 

Mrs. Steal: Rumor cannot always be trusted. 

Mrs. Talk: What did Speed-Good say? 

Mrs. Steal: He said long prayers often were 
hypocritical. 

Mrs. Jeal: I don't care what he said about 
prayer; but that prayer of his last night and his 
way of putting things is too much for me. 

Miss Ne'er: Yes; for he says Christ did not 
preach. 

Mrs. Jeal: I heard him say so. 

Mrs. Steal: Will you two ladies tell what else 
he said? 

Miss Ne'er: That's all I know. 

Mrs. Jeal: Same here. 

Mrs. Steal: Then I will tell you something. 



56 



He said Christ did not preach, if by preaching 
men mean the modern division of a sermon into 
firstly, secondly, thirdly, etc. He said such 
sermonizing was paan's invention and by man 
might be banished the pulpit. 

Miss Jeal: But what about that sermon? 

Miss Ne'er: Yes, that's what I want to know. 
I know that for time out of mind, away down in 
Georgia our ministers always had one long and 
one short prayer. Why don't he? 

Mrs. World: ( curtly ) Because he don't want 
to. 

Miss Ne'er: Other preachers pray long and 
short. Does he know more than all the rest? 

Mrs. World: Yes, Worldly says he does. 

Miss Ne'er: What does Worldly know about 
it? Does he ever go to church? 

Mrs. Jeal: I have seen him there at ^funeral. 

Mrs. Talk: What was that prayer? (All ex- 
cept Mrs. Steal-Girl one by one.) I don't know, 
nor I, etc., etc. 

Mrs. Talk: (To Mrs. Steal-Girl) You tell. 

Mrs. Steal: I do not remember exactly. 

All: Well, tell what you can. 

Mrs. Steal: I think he said: O God bless each 
song we sing, each word we utter and each heart 
that is here. Amen. 

Miss Ne^er: Such an abominable prayer! The 
Lord save me from such a man. 

Mrs. World: Well, the Lord has saved you 
from Speed-Good up to date; for Speed- Good has 

57 



staid far from you all along. I think the Lord will 
continue to save you. 

Miss Ne'er: (rising) You vile thing. I won't 
stay in such society, ( Exit Miss Ne'er) 

Mrs. Jeah (To Steal -Girl) They say your 
preacher is composing a vile dance tune for the 
opera. How is it? 

Mrs. Steal: I heard him say about two months 
since that he was composing a march entitled, 
"When Grant Comes Marching Home Again." 

All: Oh! 

Mrs. Jeal: What did he say about the lodges 
last night? 

Mrs. World: He did not speak of them last 
night, but I heard him say this from his pulpit, 
once: **I try to be broad in my views, and here 
is my belief about lodges: A man can preach 
tho' not a lodge man. Tho' I never preached be- 
fore I rode a goat, and have now ridden the Free 
Mason Goat, the Odd Fellow Goat, the Macabee 
Goat, the Woodman Goat, the Temperance Goat, 
the Pyramid Goat and probably some I have for- 
gotten; and I can preach yet. " (pause) 

Mrs. Talk: I heard since then he is trying to 
ride the Odd Fellow Goat right thro' a ladies' 
lodge— the Rebekahs. 

Mrs. Jeal: O well, he's young and foolish. 
They say this is his first church. 

Mrs. Steal: Yes, he was ordained here. May 
I his name revere. 



58 



Mrs. Jeal: Fom may, but / won't. He's not 
ortliodox, 

Mrs. Steal', How do you know? 

Mrs. Jeal: Because he says all sons of Adam 
are sons of God, and I know better; because our 
old minister taught that some were the devil's 
children. 

Mrs. Steal: His faith in humanity is without 
bound. But is this wrong? God, himself, does 
not save a soul without calling on humanity; for 
Christ's humanity made death possible to Him. In 
death he died not for our sins only, but for the 
sins of the whole world. Do you not believe this? 

Mrs. Jeal: No. 

Mrs, Steal: Then you are not orthodoxy for the 
Bible states what I have said. 

Mrs. Jeal: Well, I don't believe this statement. 

Mrs. Steal: Christ died for the whole world, 
but the whole world will not be saved, you say? 

Mrs, Jeal: Yes, I do. 

Mrs. Steal: Then you believe that Christ's 
death will not do what he purposed thro' it to do? 
In brief you believe that Christ did not see of the 
travel of His soul to satisfy him? 

Mrs. Jeal: Yes, I do believe this. 

Mrs, Steal: Then Christ died in vain. 

Mrs. Jeal: Yes, He did. 

Mrs. Steal: That may be, but it seems absurd. 

Mrs. Jeal\ What our forefathers taught is 
good enough for me. 



59 



Mrs, Steal: So says the heathen Indian, and 
hence he remains heathen. My forefathers taught 
the cutting of wheat with sickle, but that is not 
good enough for me. My forefathers taught and 
practiced heathenism, but I prefer Christianity, 
tho' we still have somethings to learn. Dr. Speed- 
Good does not teach universal salvation and never 
has, but he is very, very charitable and gives the 
doubt to the criminal. His fort is love, love, love. 

Mrs. Jeal: I move we adjourn. Seconded. 
Carried. 

(Exeunt all except Mrs. Steal. ) 

SCENE 3 — MRS. steal-girl's PARLOR. Steal- 
Girl and Mrs. Steal- Girl. 

Mrs. Steal- Girl: (turning from piano whei^e she 
had been playing for the indifferent Steal-Girl) 
Snarl, tell me the truth. Do you care for music and 
literature? 

Steal: No! I hate them. To me "Rock of 
Ages" is the same as "Yankee Doodle;' ' and Dick- 
ens is Dutch to me. 

Mrs. Steal: O husband, night after night I 

have tried 
To keep you home with me from Wrong- All's joint; 
And how sad for me to learn from you 
That all I've done has driven you away 
Instead of drawing you to me and home. 
And hope and heaven and most happy life. 
O Snarl you hate all I love and love all 



60 



I loathe, lament, and long to see destroyed. 
You hate my church, my pastor and my home; 
You hate my lodge, my lady friends, my all. 

Steal: Your pastor's sneaky, snarly, snap- 
pish thief. 

Mrs. Steal: Why, Snarl, before we married 
you loved him. 

Steal: I never loved him and I hate him now; 
because he sneaked out of marrying us. 

Mrs. Steal: I wish we had never met. 

Steal: (angrily) That's me too, (Exit) 

SCENE 4. — wrong-al"l's JOINT. Steal-Girl, 
Sore-Head, Ready-to-Fight, Wrong- All, Others. 

(Steal- Girl, Ready-to-Fight, Sore-Head and 
a stranger seated at table playing cards. ) 

Steal: (to Ready-to-Fight) You stole them 
cards. No man could get a hand like that and 
deal 'em fair. 

Ready: You cut the cards yourself, and so you 
know they wasn't stocA:ed And they wasn't mark- 
ed; for they was your own deck. Then what are 
you kickin' for? 

Steal: I'll kick because you lie and steal; my 
hand is fair. 

Ready: I'll not stand that. (Rises and springs 
to- ward Steal-Girl, grips his throat; Steal- Girl 
tries to reach his seven-shooter. ) 

Ready: (observing this) No! you don't, (reach- 
f or his own revolver, secures it; fires. Steal-Girl 

61 



falls heavily and is soon unconscious, while laying 
in a pool of his own blood; Ready-to-Fight escapes 
through back door. ) 

( Citizens hearing noise rush in. ) 

Citizen: (to Wrong- All) What's the row? 

Wrong-All: Why Steal-Girl had a row with 
some stranger (Wrong- All winks to Sore -Head) 
and in a scuffle the stranger shot Steal-Girl. 

Citizen: Why don't you phone a doctor? 

Wrong- All: We were all excited. 

(Another citizen hurries to a phone, rings; 
Hello central ) 

Ormgan from Central: Hello! 

Citizen: Call a doctor quick; send him to 
Wrong- All's joint; a shooting scrape. 

( Ormgan phones and sends Dr. M. E. Make- 
Haste.) 

SCENE 5— steal-girl's PARLOR. Mrs. Orm- 
gan, Mrs. Steal -Girl. 

Mrs. Steal (to Mrs. Ormgan) Why did your 
husband phone? 

Mrs. Ormgan: Be calm and prepare for the 
worst. There is trouble and your husband is shot. 

Mrs. Steal: Where? How? Why? 

Mrs. Ormgan: At Wrong- All's. By intent. I 
do not know. (Mrs. Steal- Girl faints; gentle knock 
at door, which Know-Nothing answers. Enter 
four citizens bearing Steal-Girl on a rough litter. 

Citizen: I know the house; we will take him 
to the dining hall, (to Know-Nothing) Lead the 

62 



way. (Know-Nothing trembles, falls.) I don't 
know where it is or where anything is. (Citizen 
leads the way.) 

(Enters Mrs. Ormgan, leading Mrs. Steal- 
Girl. Dr. Make-Haste does not look up; he is 
dressing Steal-Girl's wound. At last he is finished 
and observes Mrs. Steal-Girl. ) 

Mrs. Ormgan: Dr. Make-Haste, (presenting 
Mrs. Steal-Girl who comes forward) this is Mrs. 
Steal-Girl. ( The parties introduced bow only. ) 

Mrs. Steal: Doctor, is my husband's injury 

serious? 

Dr. Make- Haste: No, he will soon be con- 
scious; but will be confined to the house at least 
three months. He will recover altogether. (Exeunt 
the two ladies) 

Dr. Make: (to himself ) Isn't she a beauty? 
But ivhy did she marry this thing? (looking at the 
unconscious Steal-Girl ) 

(Enter two citizens and a servant, and receive 
the doctor's instructions. Doctor goes to see Mrs. 
Steal-Girl. ) 

SCENE 5— steal-girl's DINING ROOM. Steal 
at head of table eating soup, making much noise 
in supping same, blows it to cool it. 

Mrs. Steal: You are now better. Will you not 

live a new life ? 

Steal: Yes; after I meet Ready -to -Fight. 
(Reaches around to hip pocket and looks fierce. ) 

Mrs. Steal: Are we not disgraced enough to 

suit you? 

63 



steal: I'll look after the disgrace. I'm goin 
to Oklahoma to buy a big bunch o' cattle and death 
to that coward, Ready-to-Fight, if he cro^s my 
path. ("Curtain falls. ) 

Music: "Home Sweet Home." 

SCENE— OSWEGO HOTEL. Please- All, Old Pull- 
Back, Smooth- Man, Ready-to- Shift, Hate-Good, 
Sore-Head, Strangers. 

Please: Did you hear about Speed- Good and 
the Two Women? 

Hate: No; but I hope he's caught at last. 

Old Pull: Ye can't ketch him; he's as slippery 
as an eel and yet sticks like a leech when it ]}ays. 

Sore: I heard about his leaving the two 
women by the Frisco, you mean? 

Please: Yes. 

Ready: How was that? He's my boy. 

Please: You know how bashful he is in the 
presence of women? He says a woman is divine, 
and I guess he's afraid of divinity. He once took 
a lady to an oyster supper tho. ' 

Pull: He doesn't say they're divine, but he 
says: "A woman is naturally a religious animal.' 

Strangers: (breaking in) Who is Speed-Good. 

Hate: He's the fool as is a writin' about 
"Two Women Wronged." 

Smooth: What happened him? 

Please: He met a woman down town ten days 
since, 

He asked if he escort to her might be, 

64 



She said: '-I'll gladly be of your company, 

They walked together towards the Frisco, 

And chatted along till they met a friend 

Of Speed-Good's lady friend, who joined with them. 

Now Speed-Good became terribly nervous, 

While walking along to Frisco with them. 

Just as they came to Sherman's Restaurant 

The ladies took in a sight on a bus. 

Jim Munro was drivin' for McCulla — 

It was Doc Green all dressed like a showman, 

A adverstzin' Shipley's women's hats. 

They kinder forgot Speed-Good like you know. 

Till at length they fetched up agin Frisco; 

And then they looked around for this Speed- Good. 

They looked behind but Speed-Good was not there. 

They looked straight up into the desert air, 

But found he had not Elijah-like gone hence, 

And what became of Speed- Good they knew not. 

It seems he sneaked behind the restaurant 

And dodged to Mistress Read's where he now rooms. 

Because. he felt that he was not wanted. 

Pull'. He didn't come up town for sev'ral days, 

The Sunday next he stayed abed quite sick. 
Stranger: Where does he hail from? 
Sore\ He come from Maine here I think. 
He's worse than Old Grab-AU any day, 
He's eat with us many a time and oft, 
His grace is short but meal very long. 

Beady -to- S: He's hunk-hunk; for Dickerman 
wrote back to Maine to find out, before Speed- 
Good was ordained. 

65 



Hate : His brain contains a soft spot. 

Pull: It spreads all over his brain, too. 

Smooth'. He bought a tramp a pair of shoes I'm 
told. 

The tramp sold them in hours but few for drink; 
Speed-Good was going to buy the tramp a coat, 
But George Skillin and Fred Cook told him not; 
Because the tramp a hobo was they said. 

ACT III. 

SCENE 1 — MRS. STEAL-GIRL. (Reclining on sofa.) 
(Enter Know-Nothing, Mrs. Steal-Girl's servant.) 

Knoio: Please mum, Dr. Make-Haste as ye 
sent for him is at the door waitin' to come in. 

Mrs. Steal: Good morning, Doctor. Be seated. 
(Doctor takes chair close up to sofa and takes Mrs. 
Steal-Girl's hand to measure her pulse, looking at 
watch.) 

Dr. Make: (after a minute's examination) Says 
"Oumgh! Houmgh!" 

3Irs. Steal: My friends say I am a consump- 
tive. What is your opinion? 

Dr. Make: 1 have no opinion yet. (writes 
prescription, asks for lady servant who appears, 
gives servant instruction for obtaining medicine at 
Kingsbury & Frick's, then says to Mrs. Steal:) 
Take every two hours as instructed. If it makes 
you no stronger, I will change the medicine next 
Tuesday. (Exit Dr. Make-Haste. ) 



66 



SCENE 2 — MRS. STEAL-GIRL'S PARLOR. 

(Mrs. Steal-Girl in rocker. Enter Dr. E. Make- 
Haste. ) 

Br. Make: You know I drove past your south- 
east window about 10:15 last Wednesday night? 

Mrs. Steal: Yes, Edward, I was sitting there 
and heard, because Know-Nothing and Do-Much 
had gone to Odd-Fellows Hall — Old Soldiers' great 
feast. 

Dr. Make: Well, I came from Old Grunt- 
Mnch's. 

Mrs. Steal: Yes. (Long silence and the lovers 
look love into each other's faces. ) 

Dr. Make: True, do you know it's four years 
since we first met? 

Mrs. Steal: Yes, it is three years since you 
were called to treat me for consumption. You 
prescribed pleasant pastime, books, music, good 
company. Well, Steal-Girl left about that time 
and I have not seen him since. I hear from him 
thro' others tho' he does not write. 

Dr. Make: (Drawing chair near enough to 
True to take her hands in his, while clasping her 
hand and all radiant with love speaking from his 
face.) So I understand. True, you were not 
married to him, but you are married to me. 
You do not love Mm, but you do love me. 

Mrs. Steal: Yes, I know. 

Dr. Make: Well, True, I am tired of this court- 
ing you, not tired of ijou- 

67 

(5) 



3Irs. Steal: I understand, Edward, but you 
must wait. 

Z>r. Make: I will wait no longer. Before I 
met you I paid attention to Sarah Spoilt-Child. If 
you will not wed, I will make up with her. ( She 
withdraws her hands from him and he angrily 
moves further from her. ) 

3Irs, Steal: Now, Edward, you do not doubt 
my love? 

Dr. Make: No, but I hate to wait a life time. 
Oh, True, forgive my folly in speaking so . 

Mrs. Steal: Certainly. I love you Edward. 

Dr. 3Iake: Then, why don't you marry me? 

3Irs, Steal: Edward, you know tvMj. 

You know I love, and love no man but you. 

At first I hated life because of love 

I feared my church, my Christ, my Christian 

friends. 
I went to lodge and lingered long to learn 
What fate my friends and foes discerned. 
Awaited one alone in agony. 
One severed by sin for eternity, 
I wept by day; and slept not well at night. 
In dreams most dreadful Steal-Girl seemed to fight 
With you and ever would 'gainst you prevail. 
Speed- Good on wheel was speeding by one day, 
I called before he was too far away, 
He came and said: *'My little True, I know 
Your life, your love, your hope, as pure as snow. 
You have no tale to tell to me to-day; 

68 



In love I live; I learn alway 

In love I learn to linger by the rill, 

In love I catch the sunset on the hill, 

I love my True, and Make-Haste too; 

I know their meetings not a few. 

I know why Make-Haste hears me preach 

It is because you better teach 

The lamp, the light, the life alone. 

Where Christ doth rule and all is love. 

My preaching to him seems most stern; 

For much he has of love to learn. 

He doth not know I love him now, 

Because to me he's grand some how. 

Now, True, decide the case yourself; 

Care not for foe nor praise nor pelf. " 

Thus left alone I knelt to God, 

And clung so close I felt no rod 

In hand divine above me swayed, 

Tho' when I knelt I knelt dismayed. 

He clasped my hand in His I know 

And said: "Thou art as pure as snow, 

Thou hast been wronged by one of late, 

I love in spite of life of hate 

I love the sinner spite of sin; 

And shall someday each sinner win." 

I said: 'O God, can this be true' 

And seemed to hear from bending blue: 

"Believe in me each day and year 

And wait for Make- Haste without fear. 

Be not in haste, for I am slow 

And yet control all things below." 

69 

f 



Make: Speed- Good doesn't teach that doc- 
trine. 

Mrs, Steal: No, but he half beUeves it. 

Make: How do you know? 

Mrs, Steal: I can't tell koiv I know. 

Make: Well, the church is worse than the 
world. 

Mrs. Steal: Why? 

Make: Because of its lack of love. 

3Irs. Steal: In what? 

Make: Its teaching of predestinated per- 
dition. 

Mrs. Steal: The church may teach that but 
Christians don't believe it. 

3Iake: Then why do Christians set sign and 
seal to such a doctrine? 

3Irs. Steal: Some are weak-minded. I did not 
sign. 

3Iake: They'll turn you out. 

3Irs. Steal. My trunk is packed and I'm ready. 

Make: I say again the church is worse than 
the world. 

Mrs. Steal: The world is often wrong. 

Make: Give cases. 

Mrs, Steal: • Not long since two men put in 
claims for damages to their wares on a certain rail- 
road, from the same town. The company wrote 
the station mastej* to allow all claims to influential 
shippers, four hundred dollars a month and up- 
ward, but to deny claims of shippers whose trade 



10 



was less than one hundred dollars a month. Why? 
Because they feared the rich but despised the 
poor. Again, preachers, congressmen, etc., ride 
for half -fare or free, but the poor pay double price. 
Again, a certain oil king has crushed out smaller 
industries, and thus destroyed manly independ- 
ence, that he might gather a snug fortune of four 
hundred million. 

Make: Yes, but is he not out of your denomi- 
nation? 

Mrs. Steal: I do not know, but right is right 
and wrong is wrong. 

Make: Your church excluded a man not long 
since, and after that your leading members passed 
him on the street as if he had been a dog, yet they 
say Christ died for the wigodly. 

Mrs. Steal: Good- Speed visited him. 

Make: Yes, but your church objected. 

Mrs. Steal: Not all; and Speed- Good was 
kind to the man and kept up his visiting till the 
excluded died. 

Make: Yes, because he doesn't know enough 
to stop. (Mrs. Steal laughs. ) 

Mrs. Steal: I see, Edward, you blame the 
church for lack of love to this poor man; and 
Speed-Good for loving him, do you? (Silence.) 

Make: Your church turned out Pearl Pretty, 
and why not her betrayer, Love -Lust? Again, 
your church would let your preacher's child starve 
in case of his death, but the Woodmen will advance 



71 



the cash to support the child. I know churches 
that systematically defraud their preachers. 

Mrs. Steal: I'm tired of this talk. 

Make: So am I. I'm tired of this courtship, 
too. What cttTi I enjoy? I never yet walked home 
from church with you. I never take you out. I 
sneak; but I'm going to redeem my manhood some- 
how. 

Mrs. Steal: Edward? 

Make: I saw you one afternoon at Neosho 
Bridge; and was about to speak to you., as you 
leaned over the rail, but the drayman, Gilham, 
drove down the hill and I missed you. Again, 
at the Memorial Service we were kept apart. It 
has been so from first to last. 

True, if man e'er fought a fight, 

1 fought against this both day and night. 
But, True I failed from first to last; 
And hate myself for what is past. 

I hate my love and curse my life; 
For day and night to me bring strife. 
Some time ago I stood in pride; 
And took my place where men decide 
The points so nice in my dear art, 
While I with them, would take a part, 
But now each day I sneak and crawl; 
And start like thief when one doth call. 
Now, True, I will not live this life 
Unless you now become my wife. 



72 



Mrs. Steal: O Edward, when I first learned 
your love, 

I knew it came from God above; 
And yet denied the love you asked, 
Till God to you the truth unmasked, 
But God to me doth whisper now, 
Just wait for me to bless somehow. 

Make: (Rising and looking very stern.) I 
will no longer wait. Next Sunday you will see me 
for the last time in this life. I'm going to Kansas 
City. To show what I bear for you would say: 
The other day as I passed Condon's bank, some 
raglings shouted after me, "Hello, doctor, how 
are you making it with old Steal- Girl's wife? 
When is it a comin' off? Old Steal- Girl '11 lick you. ' ' 
Now, True, I cannot, will not, must not stand this. 
( Goes out quickly. ) 

^ Mrs. Steal: (Goes to sofa, lies down, covers 
face with hands, weeps bitterly.) 

My Love is dead, there's naught instead. 
My Hope is fled for Love is dead. 
No bird in air, no bird on tree. 
Pours forth its sweetest melody. 
For me no more the rose shall blow; 
For me no more sweet lilies grow; 
For me no more the rainbow bends; 
For me no more the daisy lends 
Its fragrance sweet in grassy dell. 
To me the night grows dark as hell. 

73 



( A ring at 'phone, no answer, louder and lon- 
ger till Mrs. Steal rises, goes to mirror, hastily 
arranges her toilet and then going to 'phone says:) 

Hello! Yes, 1 am at home. Come now. 

(Returns to mirror, rearranges her hair, etc. 
Tries to smile. Knock at door.) 

Come. (Enter Know-No thing. Mrs. Steal- 
Girl looks. ) 

Well? 

Knoic: Please, mum, two mans are a waitin' 
in the hall. 

Mrs. Steal: Show them in. (Enter Grab-Ail 
and Own-the- World, smiling pleasantly. ) 

Good day, gentleman. (Shakes hand with 
each and seats them, then sits down by them. ) 

Ch^ab: Mrs. Steal-Girl my friend Own-the- 
World and I have been thinking of visiting you. 

Mrs. Steal: (Pleasantly) Indeed. And may I 
ask you so purposed? 

Ch^ah: Certainly. In business circles you 
know we have set rules for our conduct. 

Mrs, Steal: (Coldly) Yes, so I have heard. 
(Painful pause) 

Own-the- W: We find that since you first began 
to use 

Your husband's wealth things have not moved 
so smooth 

So tho't may be we'd better come and see 

If we could not with you on plan agree. 

G^^ah: (After a pause) 

Not long ago I was about to close 

74 



The widow Jones' mortgage on the hill, 
But you released the mortgage then, and since 
You have against my will debarred my plans. 
I want to know if we cannot agree 
On plan that will be better for all three. 
You see we three can do much as we will 
And railroads use with bonded goods so we 
Can hold this state well under our own sway. 

Mrs. Steal: What is your plan? 

Otvn-the-W: Will you with us unite for good 
of all? Unite to keep our interest good and high? 

Mrs. Steal: You are both much mistaken, 
gentlemen. The wealth I've used so long has been 
my own. I never had a dollar of Steal-Girl. 

Oivn-the-W: We beg your pardon, madam. 

Gh^aJ): We've come to do business with you. 
We think we can agree with you on plan so as to 
conduct the business well for all. 

Mrs. Steal: Our trouble, I see, will be to de- 
fine; for you I fear with me will not agree. "A 
business transaction exchanges commodities so as 
to benefit l>otJi parties exchanging." This, gentle- 
men, is my definition. In Mrs. Jones' case you, 
Mr. Grab-All alone were benefitted. Nor is this 
the worst of it. But your greatest success often 
comes when the greatest ruin befalls those to 
whom you lend money. As for you, Mr. Own-the- 
World, I would say that not long since a friend of 
mine took a drive with one of your best agents, 
and observed a so-called "business transaction." 

75 



That "business transaction" was shameful. Now, 
gentlemen, you have sneaky, snarly, savage 
sharpers to deal with, I know. Then, too, you are 
sometimes fair and square. But I propose doing 
by others exactly as I would have them do by me 
if our business relations were reversed. You do 
not always do this; hence you and I cannot form a 
partnership to-day. 

Oivn-the- Woj^ld: We tried your plan but had to 
quit. 

Mrs. Steal: Well, I'll try it. 

(Exeunt Grab., Own-the- World.) 

SCENE 3. — Speed-Good's Church. 

Speed- Good in pulpit, Make-Haste in front, look- 
ing to right towards Mrs. Steal- Girl, who sits 
with her friend, Miss Pearl Pretty. (Curtain 
falls.) 

SCENE 4. — City Hotel. 

Please- All, Know-Nothing, Ready-to -Shift, Ready- 
to-Fight, Independent, Hate- Good, Know- 
Much, Pull-Back. 

Knoio-Much'. Did you hear about Make-Haste? 
Several Voices: No. What about him? 
Knoio: He's gone to Kansas City. 
Please: Why? 

Knoio: To get out of his scrape with that 
woman. 

Ready: What woman? 



Know. I guess you know. 

Ready: I don't know. 

Ready -to- FigliU He means old Steal-Girl's 
wife; and let me once more meet Steal-Girl and 1 
will open the way for the doctor. 

Small Voices: Good enough. 

Know: I know he's right after her tho' she 
lives fourteen blocks from me; but I'm not blind. 

Independent: flow do you know? As you 
knew some time ago how to tax Oswego? 

Know: (Angrily) I often see 'em a walkin' out 
together in the morning. 

Please: (To Know-No thing.) What do you 
think of what this man says? 

Knoiv N: My Misses never goes out till after 
dinner. 

Know M: You lie, you fool you. I saw Make- 
Haste with her this morning go past the postofiice 
at 8 o'clock. 

Know N: That was Make-Haste and Pearl 
Pretty, who's stoppin' at our house. 

Knoio M: Don't Mrs. Steal- Girl wear a white 
waist and sailor hat? 

Know N: Yes; and so does Pearl. They dress 
both zackly 'like, especially Pearl. 

Ready to S: The boy is right. 

Know M: You'd better go and pay your debts. 

Ready to S: I don't owe you; mind your busi- 
ness. 

(Exit Know-Much and enter Smooth-Man.) 

77 



Smooth-Maw. (Going up to phone) Say, land- 
lord, let's use your phone. 

Landlord: Go ahead. (Rings, talks.) 

Smooth: (Coming from phone and taking 
chair) What's up now? 

Hate: We were talking of that sneak Make- 
Haste. 

Smooth: He ain't no sneak. 

Pull: No; cause he deals with you, and was 
once elected on your ticket to office. I'm on the 
otJier side. 

Independent: Our marriage law is all wrong. 
Mrs. Steal-Girl is a fine woman, but she was never 
married to old Steal-Girl. 

Pull: You would break up society. 

Independent: I would not; but would bioild it 
up, by banishing every standard this side heaven 
and placing plans I have tho't out for the universal 
good, 

Pull: Where I come from marriage was 
marriage. 

Hate: That sneak Speed-Good nags this 
thing on. 

• Ready-to- S: Speed-Good's my white-headed 
boy. 

Hate: No one wants him but you. I hate him. 

Please: The laws of God hold Make-Haste and 
Mrs. Steal-Girl married now. 

Independent: How do you know? 

Please: I've seen 'em at your church. You 



78 



can't fool me. They love each other better than 
they love life. I'd like to see her happy, as she 
would be with young Mai e-Haste. 

Pull: I'd like to string 'em both up; as we 
would do back in Tennessee afore the war. 

Eate\ I'd like to hang 'em, if you'll jus' 
throw in Speed Good with 'em. 

Smooth: Make-Haste looked like death when 
he went to Frisco to go off to Kansas City. 

Pull: I hope he'll die on the way. 

Hate: I'd like to help him out of the way. 
(Exeunt ) 

SCENE v.— MRS. STEAL-GIRL' S PARLOR. (En- 
ter Know-Nothing.) 

Knoio: Please mum here's another letter from 

Make-Haste. 

Mrs. Steal: (Severely) Who told you to say 

that to me? 

Know: (Much frightened) Please mum no- 
body. 

Mrs. Steal: Then why did you say that? 

Know: Please mum you get so many like 
that all from Kansas City. 

Mrs. Steal: (Opening letter) You go and 
never be impudent again. 

Knoiu: Yes, mum I will. ( Exit Know-Noth- 
ing.) . . . 

(Mrs. Steal-Girl reads and then sighs, cries 

and at last sobs aloud. Finally ceases, goes to 

79 



glass, arranges and re-arranges toilet, then says:) 
So, Edward, you did marry Sarah Spoilt- 
Child. Well, I'll write you a letter of congratu- 
lation. (O God, help me now!) and then farewell 
forever, my loving Edward. (O God I love only 
Mm.) 

(Cui'tain falls. Very sad music. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I. KANSAS CITY. (Sarah Spoilt- 
Child's home. ) 

FARCE — An old bridle hanging in view. 
Curtain falls. 

SCENE II. Same. (Make-Haste's home. Dr. 
Make-Haste and Mrs. Make-Haste.) 

3Irs. Make-Haste: Now, Edward, what do you 

think of Mrs. Jones? 

Dr. Make: I don't think of her. 

Mrs. Make: Well, she was over here this 
morning. 

Make: Well? 

Mrs. Make: Isn't it awful? 

Make: I see nothing awful about it. 

Mrs. Make: I know that would not occur in 
Brooklyn. They visit after dinner there. 

Make: I grow tired of Brooklyn. Why did 
you not stay there? 

Mrs. Make: Why Edward, you say I came west 
to get a husband. 

80 



MaJce; I wish you hadn't got me. * 

Mrs. Make: I would have failed if you had 
succeeded with old Steal-Girl's wife. (Silence.) 
You know you are killing me by inches. My liver 
is expanding and my right lung is shrinking. 
( Covers face with handkerchief and cries. ) You're 
a mean, cruel husband. In Brooklyn I was the 
belle a whole season; and my sister two seasons. 
What am I now? You know I'm nothing. 

MaJce: Oh I don't know, I thought you were 
an expansionist. 

Ifrs. Make: Oh vile man! What has my liver 
expanding to do with the Philippine question? 

Make: If you'd forget yourself, your past, 
your imagined disease; and study music, art, any- 
thing this side of Heaven, you would not be a 
■^back number. ' All Brooklyn — 

Mrs. Make: How insulting! What will my 
people think of my wretched marriage? My peo- 
ple, the best in Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Make: They were quite common when I was 
there with you a year since. 

Mrs. Make: As far as you're a judge, (a look 
of scorn on her face) you mean? 

Make: I must use my judgment or yours] for 
we alone know your people here. Your judgment, 
which seems buried in Brooklyn, is useless to me 
so I use my own. You live in Brooklyn; I in Kan- 
sas. You live on your diseases; /on my health. 
You are welcome to your existence. 



81 



Mrs. Make; (Rising and going toward door) 
You're a nasty mean thing. (Makes a face at him; 
exit Mrs. M.) 

Make: (Looking toward the door and solilo- 
quizing) Sarah, you're better than I. I don't 
believe in a hell; and yet one is a necessity for 
such mean scamps as I. If I were in Kentucky, 
the mob would hang me. It would much better 
have been to send Steal- Girl to glory when he was 
shot than this life. I guess he's too mean to die, 
tho,' (Stands up, takes locket in his hand that 
hangs on watch-guard.) Well, True, I'll wear this 
as long as I love you. That's the contract. I 
wonder if you wear my gold ring on your watch- 
guard now! You said you would as long as you 
loved me. (Goes and locks door, takes something 
from bosom, unwraps it — a photo; kisses it and 
says:) 

Ah! True. ( Curtain falls. ) 

SCENE III. KANSAS CITY. Courtship College, 

Pour couples — Mr. Samuel Sore-Head, MissNe'er- 
do-Well, Mr. Independent, Miss Steal-Girl, 
sister of Snarl Steal-Girl; Mr. Fair Play, Miss 
Gertrude Grab- All, Mr. Please- All, Miss 
Grace Grab- All, seated at round center tables, 
playing chess, talking, or looking at one 
another. 

(Exeunt all but Miss Ne'er-do- Well; enter Prof. 
Make -Marriage. ) 

82 



Prof. Make: (Takes roll from his pocket and 
reads:) Miss Ne'er-do- Well, you are enamored of 
one Sore-Head, a student, like yourself of "Court- 
ship College." It is our duty to tell you what we 
know of his ancestry; and your duty not to reveal 
what we tell you; for you know this soci ty is as 
secret as the Free Masons. 

We know no good of this man, and only evil 
of his forefathers. His great, great, great grand- 
father, a Tory who fought Washington, was never 
known to do good till the last day of his life. On 
that day he hanged himself; but the rope he bor- 
rowed on the strength of his last lie. His great, 
great grandfather had two calls. His first call was 
to the pulpit for two years. His second call to the 
penitentiary for twenty years. He was a great 
liar; but he reserved his greatest lie for the day of 
his death. On that day he said of himself : ''lam 
innocent." Need I say more? My dear miss, 
you'll ne'er do well if you let him his story telh If 
you conclude this vile man wed, you'll learn soon 
why he's called Sore-Head. — Suggestive Thera- 
peutic Journal, Chicago, 111., March 1900.) 
(Music— "The Girl I Left Behind.") 

Scene 4. 

SPEED-GOOD'S CHURCH— Business Meeting. 

Grab- All, Misses Grace and Gertrude, onfrmit; 
Own-the- World, next; Six of Grab-A.lPs dis- 
charged clerks in rear; Sneak- Snake, Miss 

83 



Poor Poverty, Pull -Back, Sore-Head, Fair- 
Play, Tight- Pocket, Astride-the-Fence, Dou- 
ble-Dealer, etc., between other parties. 

Grab: Mr. Moderator, it comes to my ears 
that Mrs. True Steal-Girl is not living a Christian 
life: and hence I move she be excluded from this 
church. 

Own: It gives me pain to second that motion. 

Fair: I move to amend and in my amend- 
ment, I strike out the words Sister True Steal- 
Girl and substitute the words, Brother Grab-Ail 
instead. 

( After long silence. ) 

Ch^ace G: Why, Papa! They are going to 
exclude you. 

Grab: (Rises, turns around, looking fierce till 
he takes in the crowd, then his manner changes 
and he becomes winning in demeanor. ) Why how 
can you exclude without a charge against me? 

Fair: We have six of your former clerks to 
testify against you here and noiv, Mr. Moderator, 
please call on Sore-Head and Mrs. Tight-Pocket. 

A Voice: Great heavens, don't call on Mrs. 
Tight-Pocket; for she will shed crocodile tears 
enough to float us all outof the church. (Laughter) 

Speed: I hope neither the amendment nor the 
original motion will be put to-day. My advice 's 
to postpone for a month. 

Fair: I will withdraw my amendment if Bro. 



84 



Grab- All will tell the church what Sister Steal - 
Girl has done amiss. 

Grab: She was in Kansas City attending 
"Courtship College" last week. 

Fair: She was not; that was Miss Steal- Girl, 

the late Snarl Steal -Girl's sister; but Grace and 

Gertrude Grab-All were there. Why not church 

fJiem? 

Grab: (To his daughters. ) Yoa were never 

there, were you, girls? 

Gertrude: Yes, papa, but only twice. 

Sneak- S: I hate that college anyhow. 

Grab: (Very angrily) Sneak-Snake, you look 
after your daughter in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and 
it will take all your time. I can let you have some 
more, Sneak-Snake, if you are ready. 

Sneak-S: (Cringingly) Please excuse me. 
Brother Grab- All it may be I went too far with my 
tongue; but I hate card-playing, dancing, operas 
and such like so much, I must speak out. 

Fair: Talking is cheap; but if it cost money, 
Brother Sneak-Snake would not utter ten words 
per annum. He does not spend ten cents in ten 
years to enforce the liquor law; and was never 
known to give a dollar to famines in India, Cuba, 
etc., any more than Mrs. Tight-Pocket. His 
words are like her tears — CHEAP. 

Speed: You are not talking to the amendment 
and you cannot talk to the motion. What are you 
going to do? 

3fiss Poor Poverty: Isn't this the party that 



excluded Pearl Pretty, but left young Love-Lust 
in good standing? 

Sjjeed: No; that was your oivn sex. 

Grab- All moves and Fair-Play seconds ad- 
journment. Carried. ( Exeunt. ) 

ACT V. 

PRELUDE ("aj OSWEGO. — Mrs. steal- Girl seated in 
rocking chair in her parlor. Enter Know- 
Nothing. 

Knoiv: Please mum, here's a letter for ye. 
(Hands letter to Mrs. Steal-Girl; retires.^ 

Mrs. Steal: (Opens letter, reads, drops on her 
knees and says:^ Oh God, help Trust- All. So 
Pearl is dead! 

(Curtain falls.) 

(bj — Same. Curtain rises. Pearl Trust- All's 
coffin. Mrs. Steal-Girl seated beside it, weeping. 

Tableau. Voices singing ' 'Nearer My God to 
Thee." 

, (Curtain falls. ) 

SCENE 1. Ante-Room Public Schools. (A 
wash basin of water, soap, towel, comb. Know- 
Nothing dressed in duck, dirty, ragged pants, bare 
foot, feet and limbs dirty, one pant leg rolled up 
helow and the other above the knee, face dirty, hair 
tangled, matted; no coat or vest, only one suspend- 
er fastened by pegs for buttons; whip, short 

86 



handle, long lash on floor near the lady teacher 
who has charge of Know-Nothing. j 

Lady T: Mrs. Steal- Girl has tried for years 
to make you a better boy; but you grow worse. 

Know-N: ( After a pause ) : Yes, mum. 

Lady T: She told me to make you toe the 
mark. 

Nnow-N: Which mark? This? (Draws big 
toe over a seam where two boards meet and looks 
saucy; grins broadly. ) 

Lady T\ ( Coloring and growing angry) : You 
may act sharp with your kind mistress, but not 
with me. I intend you to obey. But you don't 
know what obey is, perhaps. 

Know-N: (^Pace brightening, straightens him- 
self up in a pleased, spirited way^ : I do know 
what a hay is, you jus' bet. Torn Drew drives a 
bay. Tom's a good 'un. Tom knows suthin' he 
do. Out horse is a roan — and the colt's a roan, a 
dandy. I wish Tom Drew had that colt. 

Lady T: ( Whose face had been averted to hide 
its smiles from Know-N. j : Why do you want Mr. 
Drew to have Mrs. Steal-Girl's roan colt? 

Know-N: Cause Christians is cranky and 
don't drive a-dashin' along like Tom. 

Lady T: f Pointing to a basin, picks up soap 
and towel; places towel over chair backj: You 
can't sit with my clean children until you're wash- 
ed. I'm going to wash you. (She begins and 
Know- N. is quiet at first, but soon begins to dance 
and yell. Lady T. urges him to be quiet, j 

87 



Knoio-N: I'll be quiet when you take them 
suds out of my eyes; take 'em out — you put 'emj 
in. ("He pulls away and tries to escape thro' the' 
door, which the teacher perceives and prevents by 
stepping in front of the same. He retires, defiant, 
to farther side of room.j 

Lady T\ (Taking whip from floor, says sternly): 
Come here, sir. 

Knoio-N'. No, mum. 

Lady T: You must; Mrs. Steal -Girl said you 
must mind me, 

Knoiv-N: Did she say you was to fill my eyes 
with them suds? 

Lady T: (Cuts at him with whip): Come here, 
Know-Nothing. 

Knoivn-N: No, mum. 

Lady T: (Strikes at him): Come here 

Know-N: (Seizing calf of leg and yelling): You 
quit cutin' button holes in me. 

(Lady T. coaxes him back and finishes ablu- 
tion, then begins to comb his hair. While combing 
she says: When were you washed? 

Know-N: Jus ' now, mum. 

Lady T: But I mean before to-day. 

KnoiO'N: If you mean all over, I don't jus' 
remember but I think it was las' September, at 
the ben' of the river, west of the Neosho bridge. 
I was with the boys what run away from school 
that day. He dances, tries to pull away, yells 
till his hair is dressed; then teacher takes mirror 



from wall and brings it to him. He holds it in 
front and looks intently, much surprised at his ap- 
pearance at first, and then begins to grin with ad- 
miration. Exeunt; teacher leads Know-N. by the 
hand, while he grins as he looks sideways toward 
the audience. Lively music.) 

SCENE 2. — Oklahoma (Tavern). 

Ready-to- Fight, Sore-Head, Steal- Girl, Strangers. 
(All seated around a small table.) 

Steal: (Half drunk, rising): Gentlemen, some 
years since I met Ready -to -Fight at Wrong- All's 
joint, Oswego; and we had a row over a game of 
cards. He lied, had cheated; and in the row shot 
me without a moment's warning. Noiu, I want a 
chance at Mm, and ask you to see me fair play. 

Tivo Voices: We will. 

Ready: He's a liar. I took no advantage of 
him in cards, or cash, or clash that came. He 
reached for his pistol and, I downed him before he 
could get it. I will soon satisfy him. Let him 
choose his seconds. You, stranger that wears the 
broad rim, and you, six-footer, be my seconds. 

Strangers addressed f risingj : We will. 

f Steal- Girl selects his seconds and the six 
move to an open place. Landlord is referee. 
Duelists are placed. Referee steps at a certain 
point equidistajit from the duelists, so that the 
position of the three would form a triangle, as 
illustrated. 

89 



STEAL. READY. 

REFEREE. 

A certain point equidistant from the duelists 
so that the position of the three would form a 
triangle as illustrated. 

Beferee: f Firmly and calmly) Gentlemen, 1 
shall count slow. I shall count one — two— three, 
When I count three, you fire. Ready? 

Ready -to: I am. 

Steal: Same here. 

Referee: One! Two! Three! 

f Ready-to and Steal fire simultaneously, bott 
missing their aim. ) 

Referee: (^Af ter pause) One! Two! Three! 

("Duelists fire again. Ready-to is shot in lef 
arm, bleeds and weakens. His second comes to hif 
aid.) 

Ready-to: ("Determinedly.) I want to finisl 
this thing to-day. 

Second: You better wait. 

Ready: No. 

Steal: I'm satisfied. I won't shoot a woundec 
man. 

Ready: ("Doggedly): /m not satisfied. 
Steal: ("As doggedly): Well, I c«?i give yoi 
enough. 

("Duelists assume old places and at the coun 
of three both fire and both fall; and lie still 
Tableau.) 

90 



Scene 4 — Oswego. (Engine House J 

Nellie Nafus: (At phone) Hello! Carpenter. 
( Pause ) 

Nellie Nafus: (Continuing after the pause )Wil- 
ber Condon phoned me from Vinita to let Mrs. 
Steal-Girl know that Steal-Girl is dead. He met 
Ready-to-Fight and a duel took place. Both are 
dead. Steal-Girl's remains are on their way to. 
Oswego and will be at the Katy to-morrow noon. 
Send Mrs. Stonecipher to tell Mrs. Steal- Girl. 

(Curtain falls.) 

STEAL-GIRL'S RETURN. 

(Tableau.) 

MRS. STEAL GIRL'S SITTING ROOM. 

Coffin covered with w^reaths of flowers. A 
voice, "Christ died for our sins and not for ours 
only; but for the sins of the whole world." (Cur- 
tain falls.) 

SCENE 5 — School Room. 

Know-Nothing, Governess, Pupils. Know- 
Nothing in class with four others, rather dirty, 
ragged, etc., moves continually. 

Lady Teacher: Know-Much! 

Knoio-Mucli: Yes. mum. 

Lady Teacher: Mrs. Steal- Girl has had four 
teachers for you in two years; and you are no 
better yet. 



01 



Knoiv- Nothing: (Cries and winks at the others 
in class.) Yes, mum. 

Lady Teacher: (Much annoyed) You have 
been here five weeks and still know nothing. 

Know-Nothmg: (Grins at her.) Yes, mum. 

Lady Teacher: You must learn. I will begin 
at the beginning. 

Know Nothing: (Grinning more than usual.) 
You can't cause my first teacher, Miss Sour- Face, 
began on me there. 

Lady- Teacher: That isn't the beginning I 
mean. Come over to the window (leads the way to 
window; Know-Nothing follows, throwing one 
limb back behind him for the benefit of the 
youngsters, and other antics; arrives at window) 
Do you see those trees? (pointing to them.) 

Knotv -Nothing: Yes, mum. 

Lady Teacher: Do you know who made them? 

Knoiv- Nothing: Nobody, mum; they growed. 

Lady Teacher: Yes, but who made them grow? 

Knoiv-Nothing: They jus' growed theirselves. 

Lady Teacher: Who made ?/oi6 Know-Nothing? 

EnoiO'Nothing: Nobody, mum. I alls wez 
since I can 'member. 

Lady Teacher: Who was your father and 
mother? 

Knoio-Nothing; I never had none. 

Lady Teacher: (Mu^ch astonished) Why, Know- 
Nothing, where did you come from? How did Mrs, 
Steal-Girl get you? 



92 



Knoiv-Noihing: Guess she found me; 'cause 
she said I was a /oimcZZm'. (Grinsj (Curtain falls.) 

TRUE LOVE'S REWARD. 

Make-Haste's Resolve; Make-Haste's home in Kan- 
sas City; Evening. 

Make- Haste: (soliloquizing and handling the 
silver locket.) Well, Sarah has been dead two 
years. Does slie wear the ring? Does she love 
me still? I'll go to Oswego to-morrow and find out. 
(Curtain falls.) 

MAKE-HASTE'S RESOLVE CARRIED OUT. 

Mrs. Steal- Girl's Parlor; -Make-Haste, Mrs. 
Steal-Girl. He wears the locket. She, the ring. 
They are seated on the sofa, radiant with love. 

(Curtain falls.) 



93 



Patriotic Poems. 

^ ji «36 

ffilue or (5tai2? 

There was a time in early life, 

When great and bitter was the strife, 

Between the Blue and Gray on plain, 

Where none but God could count the slain. 

The grass once green'all gory turned. 
As shot and shell so swift returned. 

The grass they trod beneath their feet. 

Next year o'er mounds the eye did meet. 

For five long years the struggles last— 

O God that we forget the past. 
But no; the graves that hide our slain, 

Keep fresh our griefs— they aye remain. 

A brother brave a brother slew; 

A mound for each beside each grew. 
Each brother brave each brother true. 

Did fight the fight beneath the blue. 



95 



The Union stands so firm to-day — 
The South is never far away. 

The South the Stars and Stripes doth love, 
With love that's born in land above. 



Yet some will ask aye blue or gray? 

Which shall prevail o'er us to-day? 
In sixty, well might you this ask; 

But years did well the truth unmask. 



The darkest hour of all our night, 
Is just before the morning light; 

But when the sun doth first appear. 

The dark doth yield to gray in fear. 



But as the sun doth stronger grow, 
The gray dislodges sure but slow; 

At length the blue doth heaven own — 
No gray in east or west is known. 



So Blue and Gray did each defy; 

But now on each we may rely; 
For years long gone the Blue prevailed 

But late in war they both availed. 



96 



Cuba shall be free! free forever free! 

So rang Battle call at Washington Hall; 
Cuba's sobbing wail with Senate will prevail, 

And our Con^cress bold did to Cuba hold. 



Horror-struck, the realm swayed the nation's helm 
And Committee five over sea did ride 

In hopes they would see Spanish charity, 

Where grim Death keeps court at each Cuban 
fort. 



In Freedom's fair name 'gainst Spanish false fame, 
Committee of five over sea did ride. 

Investigation? Yes, Spanish nation, 

Why not raise the Maine to witness 'gainst 
Spain? 

"Guilt! treacherous guilt!" so declares the Maine, 
Avenged Maine shall be tho' we sweep the sea, 

And sink every fleet of Spain in the deep. 

Spain, shall your domain be greater than Spain? 



97 



Avenged Cuban Star God- plan ted afar 

On that bosom blue where thou has been true 

To Destiny 's call tho' it were to fall, 

Where grim Death held sway by night and by 
day? 



What does Cuba know while Maine is below? 

Speak Committee live, over sea to ride 
Men of unbelief shake as aspen leaf 

As dilated eyes behold sacrifice. 



With Committee five honors should divide; 

For they did their part to bless Cuba's heart 
When that awful sight filled them with af right, 

Say they, "All is well?" No, but ''All is hell." 



Here, a mother wild, holds fast a dead child; 

There, a father brave, digs a little grave. 
Here, a brother bold fights the Death-grip's hold; 

For he must live on to witness the wrong. 



There, a sister meet with address so sweet 

To those whose hungry eyes gaze at the skies 

Checks the rising tear; for her only fear 

Is that she will sigh for those who must die. 



So she half forgets even Spanish threats, 

And the time gone by when she hoped to die; 

She must sacrifice for those eager eyes 

Almost motionless in their hopelessness. 



thou God of hope, canst thou with Spain cope? 

O God of battle canst thou dismantle 
The hell hosts of Spain from over the main? 

O thou mighty Maine, may God lift again! 



Thou'rt apart from us, wilt thou be of us? 

With us on the sea hand-in-hand to be? 
With us another star, fixed not from far? 

With us fortune free, free ever wilt be? 



Wilt thou small island, unite to this land 

For thy liberty till eternity 
Lifts us side by side, where sweet lava tide 

Plows from sea to sea, blest eternity? 

LofC. 



99 

(7) 



May not cycles tell, as held in God's spell, 
They their courses keep in heavenly deep, 

Where the great God knows eternity flows 
Free from sea to sea, for you and for me? 



The United States shall decide the fates 

Cuba shall be free pitched across the sea; 

For with battle shroud we will wrap Spain 'round 
And bury her deep where the Maine doth weep. 



A Shatter shall stand close by God's right Hand 
Armed to do the right as God gives him might 

And on the great sea Spain may cease to be 

For God rules the main and He'll banish Spain. 



100 



2)ewei? at fIDanila. 

Well may'st thou start, O sleepy world; 

For Dewey has oii7- flag unfurled 
Amid a thousand lovely isles: 

Old Glory, aye, looks down and smiles; 
A.nd even Europe doeth us bring 

The world's applause with healthy ring. 
To Dewey, God gave victory 

That we might shape the destiny 
Of many nations yet unborn 

Who'll look upon old Spain with scorn; 
For those beyond the sea shall love 

The flag whose truth is from above. 
The flag that floats above the free 

And makes a girdle round the sea 



But why did Spain in war engage? 

Why spend her force in foolish rage? 
Why slay our boys at peace with all, * 

Who just before on God did call? * 
And sink in peaceful night the Maine "^ 

To rend sweet human ties in twain? ■ 
Perhaps it was just cruel fate, 

Made Spain the Maine annihilate. 



101 



Howe'er this be it seems to me 
That on the other side of sea 

Our Dewey's fleet lay at Hong Kong 
When war news to him sped along; 

'•Those devil dons of distant Spain 

In great fleet cross the raging main. " 
•»■ H: * * 



Says he, "They may come; but they'll run; 

Now, boys, each one by his own gun ; 
Be sure to get them tilted right, 

Because old Spain seems to mean fight 
I will not say where Spain will lay 

If we can reach Manila Bay; 
Perhaps her fleet will ever be 

Secure at bottom of the sea. " 



Boston and Concord make advance 

To Subig; bat find no foe's lance 
£)n battlements so old and gray; 

Tho' here Danila swore to stay 
Our squadron to annihilate. 

But Spain it seems came up too late. 
From here, Olympia leads well 

As dark mist drapes the deep and dell. 
Above the deep and over dell, 

The hanging night conceals her well — 



102 



A double night, the one in sky; 

And one in darker waves that lie, 
Lifting keel until vessel's prow 

Seems to rest in the low 'ring brow 
Of Him who made the ocean blue, 

And Saxon heart that beat so true. 
Yet, why does God frown from you sky? 

Does He intend that Right shall die? 
Suppose God's battle fix the fates 

Of Spain and the United States? 
The lights were hooded like his plan 

As Dewey pressed on in the van. 
Deep under lay missives of hell: 

In ev'ry fort, storm shot and shell. 
In the gray of the First May morn, 

The batteries begin to storm 
Our squadron in Manila Bay; 

Tho' stationed many yards away 
Till shots fifteen o'er- roof our ships. 

But draw not death from our gun's lips, 
Torpedoes two mistook the time 

And hurled freed forces to the brine. 
The Spanish fleet seems sleeping still 

Near town, Manila, 'neath the hill 
O fleet, sleep on, sustain your wrong; 

For prowess you will need ere long. 
Fleet, sleep on before you shall go. 

Fiercely facing a mighty foe. 
Fleet, shall you soon sleep and for aye 

In waters of Manila Bay? 



103 



Man's as great as the cause he represents 

So Dewey's power is as great as the Hand, 
That leads hhn as he flinching not presents 

The cause of Right in dark and distant land 
As silent steals the maiden's blush 

In the deep stillness of that hush 
That strikes one dumb as he w^aits by 

In hope, yet fear, for her reply; 
As silent as snow melts in sea; 

As silent as rose blooms on tree, 
Stood Dewey's men, staunch, strong and true 

As Farragut's in sixty-two. 
Yet Spain plies missies with strong arm 

But circle of charm cannot harm. 
At length our Dewey says, "Gridley, 

You may begin if you're ready." 
Each mutters deep under his breath: 

"0 Spain, the Maine shall be your cleat UP' 
Then Dewey's eye caught lightning's glance 

As he sees each move in advance. 
With form, sometimes, in darkness bent 

To learn, if might be, foe's intent; 
As hid behind a cloud of smoke 

His mystic moves and signals spoke 
A double- to foe were not knowm; 

Yet to our men as clearly shown 
As mountain stands 'gainst sky at noon. 
So Dewey each advantage takes 

And shows old Spain she's all mistakes; 
Her fleet is balled, bolted and blowm 



104 



Till not a Spanish vessel known, 
Where Spain once had her mighty sway 

On waters of Manila Bay. 
She failed to follow mystic fold; 

And hence her tale of woe is told 
By shriek and shot and storm and shell 

That dash death down the mouth of hell. 
Behind our smoke was circling charm 

In front was ev'ry cause to harm. 
As Dewey's ninety signals spoke 

They banished ev'ry Spanish hope; 
And signals tell: "Seize, sink or shell; 

No Spanish ship shall live to tell 
Disgrace and death to Spanish fool 

In wonder -waiting Spanish school. '' 
At first Christina led with might 

And was the first to yield the fight; 
For in her side was discontent; 

And, as she turned in twain was rent. 
In less time than poet can tell, 

She sunk from storm and shot and shell; 
And sunk forever in the main, 

Where gods now busy count her slain: 
Some starboard and some larboard lay 

All helpless in Manila Bay. 
'Gainst fate fought Spain with right good will; 

But vengeance sues her blood to spill. 
And God will not forget the Maine 

Until Manila shares her slain. 
In death each life toe did retain. 



105 



Tho' not one ship was left to Spain. 
Thus battered, burned and buried deep, 
Her mighty force for aye shall sleep. 



Ah yes, but loliy such mightj^ change? 

How could affairs by chance arrange? 
Could chance give Dewey, Gridley good? 

Could chance supply staunch Captain Wood? 
No; Spain's one-time day is ended, 

And power once hers suspended; 
Because her colonial days 

Have failed to bring God any praise. 
These islands, ours by treble right 

By gift, by ransom and by might. 
Are they not ours by what we give 

The right for every man to live, 
In his own isle girt by the sea 

And guarded by sweet Liberty? 
In his own call which serv^es him best? 

In his own home where all is blest? 
In his own heart where all is still? 

In his own church which God shall till. 
With Spirit from that home above, 

Where Right doth reign for all is love. 



NOTE— The verses marked (*) were suggested to the 
author by Mr. Harry C. Miller, B. A., of Effingham, 
Illinois. AUTHOR. 



106 



Zbc flag of tbe free. 

First Washington's immortal mind 
Our flag, the Stars and Stripes defined 
Then called he widow Betsy Ross; 
Who did the stars and stripes emboss 
On white shirt that had been lifted, 
By soldier's heart whose will drifted 
From peaceful home to bloody fray ; 
Tho' wife and child remained to pray; 
On overcoat blue had been worn 
By one whose love and mother mourn ; 
Because his clay's wrapt in that clay, 
Revealed by mound beside yon Bay; 
On skirt of red had once entwined 
A form that gods alone defined 
Whose step's as free as majesty; 
And face as fair as modesty. 



O emblem, might and purity — 

Thy white — this nation shall pure be 

Thro' ages till eternity 

Shall roll and fold the flags of earth 

To give them place for second birth 

In meadows ever bending blue. 



107 



Where God ranks ours among the true 

For part in past so well she played, 

When right 'gainst mighty powers swayed; 

Her stars, set in meadow as blue 

As if the sky had broken thro' 

To tell us the states shall never fall 

But stand to hear the trumpet' call 

In day w^hen our good fathers brave 

Each stajids beside an empty grave. 

Her red — each drop this nation's blood 

Is shed to stem the awful flood, 

Of woe, and wrong, and hate that come 

To every nation under sun. 



Our red has flowed in mighty wars, 

And rent from England thirteen stars; 

For flag, the Stars and Stripes has fought 

And Cross of George to naught has brought 

In battles many we did meet. 

And bring Old England to our feet. 

At Bunker Hill we our foes taught 

The metal from which we were fraught. 

This fight before the flag was born 

Old England's spirited pride had torn; 

And taught her that General Gage 

Must not our boys in war engage 

And when our flag has just been formed; 

Burgoyne our Saratoga stormed; 

But gave us six thousand men; 



108 



So turned the fight 'gainst him again, 
Defeated, dethroned and disgraced, 
Old England's might is not replaced, 
And Creasy's "Fifteen Battles' tell 
The lot so sad that here befell 
The greatest nation ever known, 
While high in air our flag was blown. 
On breeze of heaven that would know 
All nations equal here below, 
These "Battles" o'erlook long ages 
Till twenty centurys' pages, 
Are spread before the reader's view 
And Saratoga has bright hue. 
So France gave us sweet Lafayette, 
And never dearer friend we met. 
Then came the cause at Valley Forge; 
And hopes ran high for Tyrant George, 
Our boys half clad, but not half fed 



By Washington most nobly led, 

Upbore the flag 'till reached the sky; 

And swore; "We'll stand tho' we must die." 

Paul Jones was first to raise our flag 

On man-of-war that did not lag, 

'Till reached he, England's own snug coast 

Where vict'ry gained in spite of boast 

That she was "Mistress of the Sea," 

And would be 'till eternity. 

Cornwallis next forced to our fold 



109 



And tale of woe in England told — 

How he, defeated by our men 

Would rather not fight us again. 

He, hero in a hundred fights, 

Was vanquished by the Stars and Stripes 

So England ceased to fight the Fates, 

And left us free in these great states. 



Now sad to tell when all seemed well 

Of fate most cruel that befell 

To flag so free in sixty-one 

Before the nation had begun 

To show the great but hapless world 

Why flag of ours had been unfurled, 

Then Brother brave, away down South 

With Brother North, chanced to fall out. 

And Beauregard from Sumpter tall, 

Pulled down the flag in spite of all, 

This deed was done in sixty-one. 

But flag replaced when war was done, 

At first our Brother of the South 

Bid fair to blot the Union out; 

But then defeats may often be 

Our stepping stones to victory. 

The flag was hastened from Bull Run; 

For here defeat with us begun. 

This brought five hundred thousand men 

To drill in blue and fight again. 



110 



Then Grant moved on to Donelson, 
And took by force this garrison; 
And Buckner brave surrendered all 
On terms that did to him befall 
From us who bore the flag on high; 
From us who swore that we would die 
Before our boys once dressed in blue 
Should ever live to be untrue. 



The gray dragged on from day to day: 

The blue was never far away, 

And brother brave from way down south 

Long fought this fight when hope died out 

The land was filled, both South and North 

So many lovers lost their all 

By cruel war's destructive call 

So many mothers rue the day 

The South called sons from them away. 

But Lincoln lived to float full free 

The flag on land from sea to sea. 



To-day we see a greater sight 
Than met his vision tho' so bright; 
To-day no North or South is known 
And right prevails as has been shown 
By loyal Grant and loyal Lee, 
Who fight our foes across the sea; 



111 



For right not wrong displaced old Spain; 

And gave dominion o'er the main 

To us doth float the flag as free 

To guard the islands of the sea; 

To teach men, savage, how to live 

To help, not harm and all men give 

His brother place upon the earth 

To feel to know^ another's worth; 

And may our flag most glorious 

Forever be victorious, 

And ever girt each land and sea 

'Till tide brings in eternity. 



112 



(Beneral (Brant* 



O Grant, so great, so grand, so good 
Perforce the foe aye fled the field, 

When thou did'st come thy country's shield 
The Union ever in thee stood, 



As staunch as stand the "Rockies high. 

Which bends not bows, not to the blast: 

But dauntless stand till storm is past; 

So stood our Grant and peace bro't nigh. 



Ye fought the South with mighty hand, 
And yet loved ye the Union all; 

For heart of Grant was not so small 
As hate the foe in hostile land. 



Ye modest, silent, self -sustained. 

Who came from father's favored farrd; 

And at West Point gave no alarm 

To those who fame their own maintained 



113 



In early life ye told men naught 
Of what within you hidden lay, 

And never stopt to ask for pay: 

But seemed with truth for ever fraught. 



In fifty-four ye honors left; 

And years five wrought ye a farm, 
Where men grow great all free from harm 

And then you aid your side bereft. 



You did your duty day by day 

At home, on field, by foe's fierce fire; 
No fault you found and ne'er would tire i 

Because advance beyond you lay. 



Great Lincoln in thee aye could see 
The man to mould a nation's might 

And held thee for the thickest fight 

And meant that great thou should' st e'er be. 



114 



Xincoln, 

O Lincoln thou bright heaven-star, 

We love the day that thou wert born 

Thy name's adored and traveled far; 

For thou did'st view all wrong with scorn. 



In early life with axe in hand 

Thou didst thy way hem forward up; 
And bright the lustre o'er this land 

Which thou didst cast tho' bitter cup, 



Was pressed to lips that ne 'er expressed 
A foolish tho 't or reckless vow. 

O Lincoln how thou wert distressed 

When Brother South with North somehow, 



Pell out about located power — 

Should power lie in ea^h or all? 

Should half the nation every hour, 

Be chained and under burdens fall? 



115 

(8) 



Thy mind was clear and thou did'st right 
And said: "This nation cannot be 

Half-slave and half-free in the light, 
God gives me from eternity. 



The whole is greater than its part 

And this great Union must remain 

Tho* brave in South should break their heart 
And tho' the waters cease in main. 



And every spring should fail to flow 
Yea, more tho' sun in heaven blue, 

Should vail her face and days not grow 

For children's play or men's work new. 



Still Union great must keep her place 

Thro' calm and storm and peace and strife, 

Or else this great and noble race, 
Can never know a nations life. " 



116 



O Lincoln liow this land has grown 

And now her flag the world doth girt; 

And all because the seed was sown, 
By thee who wert thyself engirt, 



With truth and strength from God above; 

By thee who wert and shall be first 
In this great Union while we love 

The name of Truth and men free burst 



The galling chain that would enslave 
A race too strong, too true to thee 

To brook a wrong while waters have 
This .shore free till eternity.- 



ir 



3a6* H. (5arfiel&* 



O Garfield, God-given, gifted 

Self-guided as a star doth light 
Its own pathway while uplifted, 

By him who shapes our day or night; 
Or as the moon keeps on her way. 
Between the earth and sky holds sw^ay 
Thus bearing both dark and light, 
Till quarter moon to half will grow" 
At length she will just heaven show. 



So Garfield's life the earthj^ knew" 

In trial, toil, grief -mixed; 
But heaven kept he aye in view, 

Till was full and all transfixed; 
For earth herself had disappeared. 
As heaven's portals he had neared — 

By fiend untimely forced 
Home, travel — tired with latest breath 
He heaven bears thro' gates of Death. 



The boy is aye to type of man — 
How true of Garfield bright; 

118 



For early dawn to him began 

With brow alit in heaven's light. 
He toils on farm — no common hand, 
Or guards with sword his native land 

Aye foremost in the right. 
Once student, teacher, husband, friend 
He lived in love until the end. 



He was so great he dwelt apart, 

'Till found he her divine, 
In love with truth, in love with art, 

Who gave her love ne'er did repine 
To blend in bliss with him so fair, 
That rainbow bends to bless the pair — 

She makes him more divine. 
These two did live in heaven's light; 
And hence they knew no day or night. 



On glory field he sacrificed 

His all for nation's life; 
For well or ill it had sufficed 

To yield his life in that great strife, 
Which filled this land both South and North 
With many wounds the war called forth; 

But God kept him for us. 
His country's call called him to field; 
And learned he there his sword to yield. 



119 



While there he saw how best supply 
The men who fought for Right; 
And soon the Congress did rely 

On Garfield's ready wit and sight; 
For he retired from field to hall, 
And saved our land from awful fall — 
A star scarce earth — touched he. 
The war was o'er and Lincoln fell, 
So tells the tale of muffled bell. 



The years rolled on till came our need 

In eighty-one the place 
That nations from all the world heed 

Was offered him, chief of our race- 
Far other was his scheme and plan 
Than place himself in nation's van — 

His zeal for Sherman was — 
But nation's make the wisest choice; 
And in our Garfield we rejoice. 



Re was a star at Washington, 
Like the clear morning star 

He lingers long on horizon: 

So near to earth and yet so far 

He seems to say, '*0 star shine still; 

And be content your place to fill 
Not near nor far but shine. 

O star I shine, I hope alway. 

Till God's own sun brings in the day." 

120 



Pour months he was this nation's chief, 

And then foul fiend waylay 
The light, the glory of fond relief 

As rose in garden month of May, 
Throws glory round its leaves in light 
So he relieves our endless night, 

Ah Gitteau vile as vile 
Retires as darkness hides from light 
And fears the face that knows no night. 



Still some will say that he is dead; 

But dead he cannot be; 
He lives a life with God instead. 

Exchanged this for eternity. 
He lives in you I he lives in me! 
And lives a life shall ever be, 

Where rainbow glories bend. 
To give to him what doth belong, 
In gloried land with fairest throng. 



121 



Me me'er (tame Bacft* 



The soldier went from Kansas town: 

But ne'er returned as has been shown: 

His mother's eyes were filled with tears — 
His father's heart with grief and fears. 



He ne'er came back to us from far — 
His good ship sank beyond the bar, 

Where heathen plied his missiles dread; 
And strewed the ocean with our dead. 



In Jetter east that reached the land, 

He said: "I fear we here shall strand 

Our coal is gone and death is sure: 
But death itself will brave endure. 



122 



O mother, weep no more for me, 

Tho' something says I'll never see 

Your face again in Kansas state : 

Yet meet we shall or soon or late. 



Tell father he must rent the farm; 

Because in war with South his arm, 
Was struck and ever since you know 

He has been weakened from the blow. 



I worked the farm, for I was strong : 
But now you cannot get along — 

I did not work it as I should, 

Tho' father helped me all he could. 



O mother, I was always wild: — 

But you'll forgive your wayward child; 
O mother, something doth me tell 

The sounds I hear will ring my knell. 



123 



I'm glad I came at country's call; 

I'm glad because for her I fall: 
I do not fear to meet my God, 

And care not whether under sod 



Or merged in wave my body lies; 

And death itself my will defies; 
But when I think how will yoic live, 

My heart doth break — O God forgive. 



My father would no pension sue — 
O God this war how much I rue, 

I fear the struggle you must see; 
Since I can never with you be." 



124 



Not like a king just great by birth, 

Who doth his throne with men engirth, 

As little minded as himself, 

Who serve their king for praise or pelf. 



Not like the monarch on his throne, 
Who rules for self and self alone. 

Not like a monarch in his pride, 

Who rules his subjects aye aside. 



No boast of blood that's aye so blue: 
No boast of aught but what is true. 

No boast of long ancestral line; 

No boast that "All this realm is mine. 



Our presidents in cabin small; 

First saw the light thro' tree-top tall : 
They toiled all day like other men, 

To fell the tree in field and fen. 



12o 



Our presidents by mothers true, 

Have aye been rocked beneath the blue; 
And do they not so well compare, 

That monarchs mad we would not share. 



Our presidents well-taught of God, 

When gath'ring daisies from His sod, 

Have ruled in fear and yet in love. 

True 'semblance to our God above. 



Our presidents have learned at bench 
How from the brow of Labor wrench 

That glory never found by kings. 

That glory naught but toil e'er brings. 



Our flag encircles every sea; 

And makes a net-work on the lea. 
Our flag doth show that they preside, 

Who are a nations greatest pride. 



Our presidents aye stautich and strong, 
Do help the savage race along, 

By placing flag on ev'ry isle, 

Where aye Old Glory now doth smile. 



126 



Our presidents go plainly drest 

For which men say "May they be blest,' 
Our presidents of lowly mind, 

Ne'er leave their friends in want behind. 



Our presidents are plainly reared, 

By mothers who have heaven neared. 

Our presidents have borrowed light; 

From land that knows no day or night. 



Our presidents are grand and true 

Like those in land beyond the blue, 

Where angels bend to hear God's voice, 
And makes this wish their ev'ry choice. 



127 



Zbc 36attlc0bip fBMane. 



It was ten of the chime in distant clime, 

And angels of light were guarding the right; 

Our boys lay asleep in the boundless deep, 
Asleep in the Maine regardless of Spain. 



The Battleship lay in Havana bay, 

The moon's face half -hid as if she would rid 
Herself of the sight, in yon Harbor bright 

Where our boys do sleep in the hidden deep. 



The crash came at night to that vessel bright, 
It shakes the dark deep where waters must 
weep 

For our beloved slain forever in the Maine; 

Quick as arrow from bow each man lies low. 



Four hundred and more never saw the shore. 

Four hundred and more perfect bliss in store; 
"Nevermore, Nevermore," to tread the shore, 

Evermore, Evermore, reward in store. 



128 



For boys of the Maine we'll never see again; 

Sad, sad, tolling bell, where all had been well; 
Sad, sad, is't to be buried in the sea, 

Sad, sad ne'er to see the friends on the lea. 



Sad, twice sad, forever, to those who never 

Have ceased their weeping for those who're 
sleeping 

In Havana Bay, far, so far away; 

Sad, sad, tolling bell, where all had been well. 



There's many a father who would far rather 

Rest among the slain than think on the Maine. 

Many mothers are, who must weep afar 

From that dreaded spot, never to be forgot. 



One from Tennessee did love sisters three 

Whom he left for the Maine ne 'er to see again 

One from Kansas came ne'er can die his fame. 
For he left a love, who loves him above. 



129 



An angel of light was guarding the right, 
And Sigbee was led to avenge the dead; 

Angel-led from sea, he stands safe on lea; 

For spirits from Maine guard him for the main. 



Armed with God^s own might, because in the right; 

Our leader at helm well guarded this realm, 
For boys in the Maine, we'll see not again; 

So from every state, answer came not late. 



"We'll your summons obey, and come right away." 
Even the great South faced fairly about, 

And that loyal Lee was sent over sea, 

That the valiant South should not be left out. 



The North ever true as when she wore blue, 

Answered battle-call: "The union ne'er shall 
fall! 

We will strew old Spain all over the main; 
And then build anew Cuba of the few." 



130 



O thou fallen foe, what can the world do? 

God has done His best and thou art not blest. 
Avenger of wrong hurries Spain along; 

She crosses the main, but is it not vain? 



Our boy's spirits sped but grief is not fled; 

The light's lurid red falls upon the dead. 
Spain may cross the main, but we'll meet again; 

For angels of light must avenge the right. 



O Battleship Maine! thou hast won the maini 
O cruel old Spain! we forgive again, 

And extend our hand, * 'Welcome to our land," 
This land of the free, free shall ever be: 



O land of the free! tho' not born in thee; 

Were the poet loud as he is aye proud, 
He would send this rhyme into every clime 

That the good ship, Maine, should live e'er 
agair . 



131 



Zo tbe (5ran& arm?^ 

Grand Arin^^ of the Republic 

So well hast thou served the public 
That not one suit of gray 

Can be seen to-day. 
Well hast thou done thy part 

To keep the Union one in heart. 
Thou hast shed thy blood 

So we're not whelmed in llood; 
For in thy suits of blue 

Thou hast, and will be true; 
And in this war with Spain 

Men from thee, aveni>-ed the Maine. 



132 



tCo tbe Soutb* 

O South with breeze that blows so free, 
To tell of orange-blossomed tree: 

To tell of sweetest flow'ry dell, 

Where summer reigns with magic spell. 



O South that fought so fierce for Lee, 
So firm so true to Cuba free; 

O South you follow flag o'er sea, 

The flag you once despised on lea. 



O South you learned to graceful yield, 

Hang up your sword, la3^ down your shield: 

You learned to love that mighty flag, 
You follow far and never lag. 



O South we know you love far North; 

Since Cuban war hath brought you forth, 
To lay your lives on altar true, 

And fight with us beneath God's blue. 



O South for freedom you will fight — 

You keep your swords your shield aye bright. 
O South your love for right is true — 

It comes from Him beyond the blue. 



133 



O Kansas, center of the States, 

How oft tlion wilt decide the fates 

Of races yet unborn unknown, 

Who will thro' thee to all be icnown! 



O Kansas, Sun for ev'ry star. 

That doth revolve both hear and far 
Around the Sunflowers' mighty form 

In sun, or shade, or show or storm. 



O Kansas, thou hast gleaned so well 
The good you hold by magic spell. 

From ev'ry age and time and state, 
That well you may decide all fate. 



Ay, Kansas is the sweetest state, 
To which so many came not late: 

The blood is new this Kansas flows 

From strength to strength it onward flows. 



Ay, Kansas leaves the sham and shame; 

And speaks to-day in Honor's name. 
And Kansas will not license wrong 

As age to age she moves along. 

134 



O state where women have full sway! 

O State whose months are all sweet May! 
O State where all our virtues meet; 

For fairest fair doth office greet. 



For years we've sought a cure for ills — 
Were turned aside by money -mills; 

But in this state we all do find 

A cure for each and all mankind. 



Here, woman has her rightful place; 

Here, woman doth each office grace. 
Here, woman's woe is turned to bliss, 

A heaven- world is found in this. 



Here, man has naught to lose or gain; 

Here, man has naught to keep him vain, 
Here, man hath lost his vantage ground; 

Here, woman all her rights has found. 



Here, is a land of pure delight, 

Where woman is the only light. 

O man, ally with woman fair; 

Or vanish all your hopes in air. 



135 



a %mnQ Wcntb. 



Old Spain whose dead and clammy hand, 
Had rested long on Cuban land, 

Where Right by Wrong had been displaced; 
And Hope, herself, had been disgraced. 



This Star all red in gory stain, 

Had fought long years with hated Spain: 
A war unequal she did wage, 

And yet Old Spain did well engage. 



This Star while melting in her blood, 
Defied the force that came like flood, 

Across the ocean wide and deep, 

While all the w^orld seemed aye asleep. 



The world awoke one morning wild. 

All shocked she sobbed for her own child. 

The Maine all buried deep in Bay 
Forever still her crew did lay. 



136 



Old Spain had crossed the bourne that kept 

All nations still as if they slepfc, 
On verge of grave forever filled, 

By those whose woes our hearts had thrilled. 



A call, "To arms!" was heard afar; 

"We must avenge the Cuban star!" 
The boys did answer, far and wide, 

"Old Spain we'll riddle and deride." 



Among the first that did avow, 

"We'll make Old Spain to us now bow," 
Was one who came from Kansas state — 

A state that ne'er can find her mate. 



The girls knew him as Willie True: 
And ne'er his mother did him rue 

Could all the land find one so fine — 
He seemed to be almost divine? 



The morning that he marched away, 
The tree tops bowed tribute to pay 

The flowers he trod did fragrance bring; 

To him who walked — ah more than king! 



137 



The birds in air sang sweetest song, 
As Willie, spry did spring along, 

The old and young did all agree: 

^'The Star from Spain shall noiu be free.' 



Alas I So early in the strife, 

Sweet Willie yielded more than life: 
His form bedrenched in blood one day, 

Was borne from battle field away. 



He lay in cot with whitewashed wall 
And heard no more the bugle call: 

A ball had lodged so close to brain — 

The curse that clings, comes aj^e from Spain. 



A year and Willie doth come back; 

But ah! so much did Willie lack. 
Where was that tread that bounding went, 

Before old Spain her force had spent? 



Where was that voice as clear as bell, 
Which on the ear like music fell? 

Where was the bloom that once we knew 
So fresh — now vanished from our view? 



138 



Where was the man who went away, 

To fight Old Spain one summer day? 

Where was the love he bore that one, 

Who prayed "O God thy will be done?" 



All these were left on blood red field, 

Where curs'd Spain was forced to yield 

Her vaunted right in Cuban land, 
All wrested by a stronger hand. 



And who was this who walked between 
Two friends across the village green, 

Where flowers drooped in sore dismay? 
Can this be he who went away? 



His love did weep both long and sore; 

But said, at length, "Ah nevermore! 
He doth not know his love to-day! 

Ah Spain, how dear you made me pay:" 



Sweet Willie holds his living death; 

But ne'er doth speak beyond his breath, 
It were far better in his pain 

That he had died by hand of Spain. 



139 



^be Hmcrican fiasle* 

O Eag'le, with your mighty wings outspread 
From shore to shore you bid the nations tread. 
Aye soft on bounds that circle others' rights — 
You dare the great to blot out smaller lights. 



In times just past old Spain in hate defied 
An island that on Right alone relied: 
By Starvation's slow and relentless woe 
Old Spain would conquer this, her smallest foe. 



The eagle, mute and sullen, sat on crag, 
That long o'er looked the nation's lazy lag; 
And then her wings alit in that clear light, 
Which swept aside the Spanish darksome night. 



Her eye o'er-filmed as when her eaglet falls, 
All bruised and crushed in weakness for help calls-; 
And then a flash — it seemed the lightning's gleam. 
Displaced the film as speeds the swiftest dream. 



140 



The eagle, a flash of most brilliant light, 
Bore down upon old Spain, whose endless night, 
Had sunk the Cuban Star beneath that wave of woe 
Old Spain hath bro't each age to weaker foe. 



Old Spain's fleet staggers like a drunken man- 
It reels, it sinks, w^hen war, but just began— 
The eagle's look is dagger to the heart; 
It banished coward and his coward part. 



The eagle soars in circles highering; 

And aids all nations for aye inspiring 

To reach that place of light and love and hope; 

So high, so far, that none of earth can cope. 



The eagle soars beyond the Stars and Bars; 
And angry, flashes light from war-God Mars, 
A light that burns some nations in their might; 
But points the others from their endless night. 

O Eagle, swiftest of the feathered race, 
You calmly sit in heaven's highest place. 
In days of peace, you fold your wings in light. 
In days of war, you speed for Justice, Right. 



141 



Zbc l^nion. 



So wide, so great, so mi^'hty shown, 

With scarce a century past flown: 

Great Arbiter in war for lands, 

That harbor hate with cruel hands: 

That shackle those 

Whose love would make a strong repose. 



O Union fortress of the free, 

O home for those who distant be, 

Whose land their own drives forth in fear, 

Which leave they must w^ith scalding tear 

O Land that's free! 

Free, shalt thou for ever be? 



Thou shalt be free while willows bent. 
O'er streams that to them glory lent; 
Thou shalt be free while breezes blow; 
Thou shalt be free while white is snow; 
Thou shalt be free! 
O Land so free, free ever be! 



142 



Thou shalt be free while ocean's tide 

Her waters bear to rivers wide. 

Thou shalt be free, when sun grows dim; 

For Time's cup's full up to the brim, 

O Land so wide. 

You're kissed by many oceans wide! 



O Land that gave great Lincoln birth 
Who did with glory you begirth, 
You stand alone in Freedom's race; 
And scorn the lord, aye to his face, 
Your love is sure; 
And Freedom must with thee endure. 



Ye have in many wars engaged, 

And greatest powers thou hast enraged; 

Because ye seemed as naught to them, 

And yet their bravest did'st thou hem 

In narrow place; 

When fought they foe aye face to face. 



Ye fouglit — they fled — but left their dead, 
Where trophies they had hoped instead. 
How many lands have tried to give 
The death— blow to us — yet we live, 
O Land, your light 
Has banished Cuba's awful night. 



143 



O Land, no North or South is known, 

Where this Great Union strong has grown. 

The South doth seek Old Glory's weal 

To force foe back that on us steal 

O Land of love. 

Ye chartered came from Christ above? 



O Land, that gallant Grant us gave. 
Who freed the slave from wave to wave; 
O Land that did great Garfield rear, 
Who did to us bring heaven near, 
Earth's jewel he 
That heaven mio-lit we in Thee see. 



144 



Zbc (Brant) Hrm? of tbe IRepublic. 



O Army Grand, that doth us bring 

More blessings than an earthly king; 

You showed by War's majestic art 
The whole is greater than its part. 



You saved the Union from the fall, 

Which comes to nation, great or small. 

When half the race doth trembling stand, 
Before the master lash in hand. 



You heard the call from Lincoln true; 

And left your homes to don the blue, 
In which you fought your brother brave — 

You fought to conquer yet to save. 



145 



You left your mother, sisters mild; 

You left the sweetest little child. 
You left your love to care for farm; 
. And prayed that God would keep from harni. 



You tho't not once of wages then, 

As fierce you fought the foe in fen, 

Where left your comrade on the field 
With clods of earth to be his shield. 



O Army Grand we follow thee: 

O Army Grand you made us free; 

O Army Grand you are as true, 

As bends the bow beneath the blue. 



146 



(5C0VQC MaebiriQton. 

O Washington the days do teach 

How few who can thy greatness reach; 

Each year doth prove to us thou art 
Of God himself a noble part. 

O Washington, so firm, so true 

As God himself beyond the blue. 

O Washington, whose noble mind 
In God alone we now can find. 



O Washington, at Valley Forge, 

You pierced the heart of English George 
And sent our flag along the lea 

Till now it floats the land and sea. 

O Washington, once known to few, 

Thou art now held to millions' view. 

O Washington, the sun doth shine 

On land that know thou art divine. 

O Washington, each year you grow, 

More pure to man than driven snow. 

O Washington, the world is blind 

That knows not yet thy mighty mind. 

147 

ao) 



Ma0bington» 

O Washington, thou art divine 

No name so sweet to us as thine, 

This day which brings to mind thy birth, 
In glory all is now begirth, 



Because you made our mighty race, 

To stand 'fore God aye face to face. 

You little dreamed how great that life 
You spent for us in ceaseless strife. 

You fought our foe so fierce his hate, 
Did drive thee of t to heaven's gate; 

You brought from there that halo light 
By which we read thy worth to-night. 



148 



O Washington, so great, so good, 
Not yet by men quite understood 

Altho' the hght of this great age, 

Has left thee first on hist'ry's page. 



O Washington, you fought in love, 
As true as God, himself, above, 

O Washington, your light so true 

You bring to us from yon bent blue. 



O Washington, we know thy God, 
Ne'er left tJiee buried in the sod; 

But by himself He doth enthrone 
Thy life aye lived in Him alone. 



149 



Oswego Department 

H place Cbarmet). 

There is a place that I know well, 

Which one doth hold with magic spell; 

It is controlled by one fair maid, 

With whom three others long have staid. 



There was a time when I engaged, 

To toil this place wherein were caged 

Two sisters fair as this world knows; 
For fairer than the lily grows. 



In early morn I swept the shop; 

And then at noon I had to stop 
To entertain the many fair, 

Who came with brown or yellow hair. 



I felt so big my head grew large, 

So these fair maids did me discharge. 

Each day since then is very sad; 

For I no hour have e'er been glad. 



150 



Young Larkin is his father's son; 

And works with him in unison. 
He is a bachelor just now; 

But will this remedy somehow. 



In ninety-eight he came to town; 

And has since then five inches grown, 
He is a part of greatest skill; 

And doth the magazines all fill. 



He is a lad of whom we 're. proud; 

And well appears in any crowd. 
He is to-day his father's joy; 

And all around he's a right good boy. 



He doth some time keep ope the jail, 
But never doth at prisoners rail. 

He feeds them well on beans and soup; 
And never loses one of croup. 



He doth the preachers use quite well ; 

As if they held by magic spell, 
He boards at Skillin's ev'ry day; 

And never is behind with pay. 



151 



Xover'6 Heap* 

There is a cliff beside yon stream. 

Where swift the waters dash agleam 
In light that comes from heaven true, 

A place deep hid in yonder blue. 



'Tis said that years long gone a maid, 
Whose tribe by sweet Neosho staid, 

Was crossed in love to noble chief, 
And sought this cliff to find relief. 



It was a night so dark and drear, 

That all the air was filled with fear; 

It suited well the purpose wild, 

That now possessed this love-lorn child. 



So slow her step, so sad her face. 
As wrath of heaven grew apace, 

She ne'er made pause to change her mind; 
But soon the summit she did find. 



152 



Her nature for a moment failed, 

And seemed that reason had availed; 

And soon Despair regains his hold 
When plunges she in waters cold. 



The billows far below her lay, 

And rushed along in mad'ning play — 
The water-wraith' shrieked deep from wave, 

That now became this maiden's grave. 



The search for her was made in vain — 

Her grave moved on to God's own main, 

Where now she waits for Him who makes 
The best of all we call mistakes. 



A» Indian maid is said to have leaped to death from this cliff. 



153 



flDarriaee^ 

Questioas asked the couple at marriage ceremony on the baud 
stand Sept. 7, 1900, 4;46 p. m.. hy the author, who had the marriage in 
charge, at the Oswego Street Fair. 

TO THE GROOM. 

Will you to-day this lady wed 

And all your life by her be led? 
Will you for her aye build the fire; 

And dress her in the best attire? 



In case we gas find more or less, 

Will you buy her a brand new dress? 

When she grows sour will you grow sweet; 
And always with a smile her greet? , 



TO THE BRIDE. 

Do you agree this thing by him, 

To make him aye your seraphim? 

If gas is found you, 11 buy a suit; 

And never call him an old bruit? 



154 



CarrelU 

Legs-crossed he sitteth on table; 

And works as hard as he's able, 
He's young and fair and handsome too; 

And loved by girls and not a few. 



He's sweet sixteen the boys all say, 
With step as light as fawn at play. 

He whistles at his work all day 

And plies his work pay or no pay. 



His friend, the good Harry Tinker, 
Is no slough but a bright thinker, 

This Harry is the fairest boy 

And gives his father's heart much joy. 



These two are good as good can be; 

And bound for sweet eternity. 
Where there they'll ply the tailor trade 

And will with vests the shelves all lade. 



155 



Neosho flows thro' mighty plains, 

Which still bear not a few remains 

Of customs, laws to heathen known, 

That we boast now to have out grown. 



We find the skulls of horses lay, 

Where they tribute to chief may pay; 

The chief whose passions ruled his life. 
And kept adrift in battle strife. 



These skulls are dreamless as the one, 
Whose ashes say, "Thy will be done, 

From dust we came, to dust we go; 
It hath and will for aye be so. " 



Neosho, sweet and fair you flow, 

Where now the garden flowers grow. 

Neosho, can thy spirit see 

The changes that have come to thee? 



156 



Neosho, can you backward see 

How barques afloat were borne on tbee, 
Apast the w^olf s aye yawning den, 

Hid deep beyond the haunts of men? 



Neosho, can you see the chief 

To storm or seige or bring relief, 

As arrows swift and swifter fly 

To meet the arrows that reply? 



Neosho, do you know the past: 

How lives in former days were cast 

By lot or chance in battle grim, 

And left to light now death-like dim?. 



Neosho dost thou know the grief; 

For which no balm can bring relief; 
The grief that stays with mothers wild; 

Because you robbed of sweetest child? 



157 



Neosho, have you heard the voice: 

Of man who made the maid rejoice; 

Because he whispered out his love, 
As true as God is throued above? 



Neosho, have you heard my name; 

How years not long to you I came 
To see the sun-gilt ripple play, 

Coquetting with Sol far away? 



Neosho, can you never know 

How much you tell as past you flow 
In haste to reach the searching sea, 

That longs for you to leave the lea. 



You widen, deepen, sweeter grow; 

And back to him at last you flow, 
Just what he gave to him returns; 

And while still absent to him turns. 



158 



O Oswego! fair Oswego! 

None ever rue they come to you. 
O Oswego, sweet Oswego! 

A town so fair not one so rare. 
Your people fine arise at nine, 

On Sunday morn in spite of storm, 
Arrive not late at heaven's gate. 



Sit still and muse, but ne'er abuse 

The preacher true with tho'ts but few, 

Who tries to tell the story well 

Of Him who came without a name 

That all might live and ever give 
A measure true in Oswego. 



With fire alarm there can no harm, 
Reach Oswego where lilies blow: 

We need not hire for cry of "Fire!' 
As people true will rise at two 

To quench the flame in Honor's name. 
Alarum bell, it rings so well 

That mule in stall takes up the call. 



159 



In charity she's ever free 

To do her best that all be blest. 



O Oswego with Neosho, 

That ever Hows where daisy blows 
In leafy dell we love so well, 

Neosho flows between the snows. 



Oswego knows, Oswego grows. 

She grows so slow that men may know 
The way back home tho' far they roam 

In dale or dell they love so well. 



She grows so still there's no ill will 

From town apart that's e'er alert 
To work us ill and chances kill. 

We make no haste to build in paste; 
But build as true as heaven's blue. 

The poet knew old Oswego, 
In distant past before the last 

Great war with Spain gave us the main. 
She has not changed, but has remained 

As sure as fate comes soon or late. 



luo 



She has good schools not made for fools. 

Under the just who know they must 
Make Parsons rue she ever knew 

Orator tall she met last fall, 
Her cresents fell ashamed to tell, 

So hides her head in sulky bed. 



Altamont too then learned to know 

Our school's no slump since taking stump, 

Besides these two who came to rue ■^'* 

They ever knew bold Oswego. 



161 



Shater'6 Hccl&ent. 

It was the first day of the year, 
When young and old without a tear 
Neosho sought to have a skate. 
Among the braves that came not late, 
Were two who felt themselves too proud 
To mingle in the common crowd; 

o up the stream they both 
As tho' all fate they w^ould defy; 
Each felt they knew the stream full well 
And would not heed the chance befell 
A luckless wight, but few days past, 
Who fell in stream for time the last. 



These two did go, and go and go. 
For one a poet was, and so. 
He felt he must reach "Lover's Leap" 
They passed at length a bluff most steep 
And one whose feet were ne 'er forgot 
Said; "Let us sit down on this block." 
The poet said: "'Tis well my friend. 
For of this ice there seems no end." 



162 



On their return, the poet said: 
"Let us keep this bait ahead, 
It will give each something to do, 
And make us feel far better too." 



He picked a shell from near the shore 
For them to chase for ever more. 
The poet on skates had oft been, 
And now while his dear friend was seen 
To fall on smooth deceitful ice, 
The poet felt he could suffice 
For two, and darting in and out 
Like one who knew what he's about, 
Shoots at last like lightening's glance 
To ice the other viewed askance 
"You'd better take care there' said he: 
"Or you will in the water be. " 
"O there's no danger, " was reply, 
"For I can well this ice defy." 



Just then there was terrrific plunge, 
Which did not end till dreadful lunge 
Was followed by many a stroke 
From one who never a word spoke; 
B^or he was most deeply engaged 
As tho' he had been duly waged. 
To do so much on first New Year, 
A.nd do it too with all good cheer. 

163 

(11) 



The other flat on shore did lie 
For safe himself could well defy 
Both time and tide and stream as well, 
For some must live to rin.^ the knell 
Of those who fail to live their days 
And give to Him who merits praise 
Tho' rash desire or folly bent 
The hours, the weeks He to Ihem lent. 
If some must live, why not be Jim 
To tell the fate that befell him, 
Who plunged the water deep within; 
And thus to self, death early bring. 
Our hero struggles in deep flood; 
For he doth vaunt his English blood, 
And once Niagara he plied; 
And her strong waters he defied 
While swam a mile from shore to shore 
And hence he felt that ever more. 
He must old Neosho aye keep 
Well under his own skated feet. 



He felt it easy to keep cool 

While blamed he himself for a fool 

While swimming round and round and round 

This poet's eve at length had found 

A place where ice seemed firm and strong; 

And dragged at last his length along 

So weary, worn and almost spent. 



164 



His ear to Jim is not well lent; 

For shame to tell this swimmer bold 

To honest Jim felt rather cold, 

And hence when asked, "Canyon get out^" 

Replied: "I know what I'ln about. " 

One skilled in climbing unto ice, 

Knows well that strength will not suffice; 

But he who keeps his head cool 

And feet warm, is not Fortune's Fool; 

And so it was with skater bold, 

Who did his form on surface hold, 

Till friendly ice his feet did meet; 

And soon his friends did swimmer greet. 



Next time he goes to have a skate 
The poet hopes that kindest; fate, 
Will give him lucky, lacky Jim; 
For Jim will surely rescue him. 



165 



Zhc picnic Cbichcn* 

The sun arose from his repose 

On Tuesday morn, and none did scorn; 
But viewed the world, whose smoke was curled 

Prom chimney tall and chimney small. 

He shot his light thro' darkest night; 

And forced his wedge thro' window's edge 
Till brightest beam fell on men's dream; 

And filled their night with endless light. 

When sky was gray a bird held sway, 

In tones most loud; for he was proud, 

Of his own might in morning's light 
He knew the way himself to sway. 

In early morn this bird picked corn. 

Inside a pen beside a hen; 
He had no light to tell the night, 

Whose shadows fall on great and small. 

He did not know that far below 

This world of ours the Fates count hours, 
To birds belong of sweetest song; 

And that his fate would come not late. 

166 



Just as he thought I've often sought 

Yon thickest shade, and there have made 

The chickens small, seek shelter all — 
I'll ^o that way to-day I'll stay. 



A woman came — we '11 not tell name — 
Before he knew he was in view, 

She cast keen glance and did advance — 
The tale's so brief, it fills with grief. 



With latest breath he danced his death; 

His head was found upon the ground, 
Where once he fought and vict'ry bought, 

By strength and skill and blows most ill, 



Next day high noon — alas so soon — 

He sought the shade with lemonade, 

In Heltzel's woods with other goods, 

As pie and cake which picnics take. 



167 



We buried him, great seraphim 

In graves apart but near the heart — 

In graves so round not found in ground 
Each part found place all hid in face. 



In laugh and jest we did our best 

To show we cared not how lie feared 

The day before — ah evermore- 

To strut and crow on drifted snow. 



Next winter mild will find the child 
Of feathered race moved on apace, 

In ruddy blood he may cross flood; 

Or pass the snows where river flows. 



But ne'er again he'll crow for men 

To rouse from sleep so strong and deep; 

And ne 'er in morn he '11 pick his corn, 
Beside his mates so sad the Fates. 



]68 



Zo (JSiv. fIDerit d. 1Reat). 



My Friend so dear, you've come at last 
To bring to mind the sweetest past, 

When true as Truth, you stood by me 
In cause of Christ to make men Iree. 



I'm glad that He who rules your life, 
Doth give you help in every strife. 

He loves His own as has been shown, 

By fact that thou art like Him grown. 



In days not yet you'll ne'er forget, 

Thro' dark the past you did not fret, 

When hid the sun behind the cloud 

For then God's rainbow thou hast found. 



169 



Mbat a 2)oUar 2)i&- 

One morn I rose from out the ground; 
And soon a place too hot I found. 
From which I sprang to go to mint, 
There titles come and not by stint. 
I found myself with double face, 
An eagle winged to fly some place, 
All thro' the great United States, 
There I myself decide the fates 
Of man and child and hapless horse 
Now stalled by Mac. or Fish, by force. 



This eagle said: "In God we trust;" 

So may "combine" and "fraud" now rust. 

I have a woman's face as true, 

As God himself beyond the blue. 

I love the fair, because they spend; 

But failing this they all do lend, 

My ear, marked pluribus unum 

Was pierced in year eighteen ninety one. 



I went to Condon's first to stay 
An hour before I came away. 

no 



He said to me: "I fear you'll spoil, 
I'll lend you now to man of toil, 
In came a man by name James White, 
Who know no guile and ne'er held spite, 
So Condon said: "See here my friend, 
This dollar you may have to spend." 

So White did take to lettered (J. D. H.) Reed 

Who changed for corn with greatest speed. 

I found myself in hand of steel 

Of one who quick to Read's did wheel. 

Who took me in for frying pan; 

And sought his safe like careful man. 

I was about to go away, 

When one called "Read, hold there I say: 

Have you not cash to spare just now 

I'm always out of cash somehow. " 

So Read just turned and handed me 
To preacher small who went in glee 
And paid my price for printer 's press ; 
But money had and none the less. 

The printer paid me to his hand 
Who feeds his flock in this sweet land. 
So Van himself did take me in 
But soon he sent me on the spin; 
For married is he — I need not tell— 
And so I say oumgh! houmgh! ah well. 

171 



That night I rode on Katy line 

And Kansas City found by nine. 

And then a parasol I bought, 

While man got me who Spain had fought. 

He since gave me to Utterson 

And lives with his wife in unison. 



For years I've been in some one's hand; 
And hope I've blest this sweetest land. 
Last night I slept in Marley's vault: 
And felt ashamed because for malt 
I once was changed when I was young 
Before the days when conscience stung 
O'er boys and brains that beer did kill, 
Who sleep to-day beneath the hill. 



My face is worn with eagle dim; 
And now I'm old and filled with whim. 
One thing I've done since I came out — 
A day book kept and know about 
How much I've done since I began — 
I've paid my way like any man 
I've paid in all ten million bills; 
And now can sing as sweet as rills. 
And now for you I will sin' — no I can't 
I hear Marley — harsh sound of key in safe 
( Silence, deep and painful. ) 



172 



Among red, white and pink flowers, 
Sweet pansies came to wile the hours; 
And what! Oh, what were they to me, 
But fairest fair that I could see! 
A patch of blue, bending sky 
Had fallen to me from on high, 
And pansies sweet met one forlorn, 
So luckless starred to drift in storm. 
O, pansies dear you are as true 
As woman's love from heaven blue. 
How many kind steps were taken, 
To bring you to me, forsaken 
Of health, of cheer, of power to do, 
To wrestle, to struggle with foe 
In shape of death as dark as hell. 
Where never strain of music fell. 
But, pansies, ye daughters of earth, 
Yet nurslings of the sky, your worth 



173 



Has soothed me and sweetened sad life, 
And shut out the world's awful strife. 
O pansies pure, you must endure 
In poet's heart, steadfast and sure, 
As our God's rounded, bending blue, 
Where, sweet pansies, you broke through; 
Then did exert all your powers 
In smiles that did beguile the hours 
Of weary, weak and helpless child, 
Whom naught of earth could have beguiled 
And when the end shall come to me, 
May I in this great Union be. 
So when kind death shall close my eyes 
May their last glimpse catch Kansas skies; 
And may kind friends place pansies dear 
O're my lone grave to give me cheer. 



174 



?i:ban{^6 to le. Z. IReab* 

Please accept this rhyme for help in past time; 
For thou 'st often blest my soul and the rest, 
Who in His great name have failed to bring fame 
To that lovely spot, which he ne'er forgot. 
The story that's told will never grow old. 
Tho'. we do not see the blessings flow free, 
From Him who can e 'er grasp worlds in a span, 
We hope to receive crowns if we believe. 
Shall we not press on, altho' all seems gone? 
Had Christ stopt to think, mightn't we be on brink 
I will still press on; it will not be long. 



175 



^be flDorniUQ Malft. 

1 saw the sunrise just this morn, 

When all the air was filled with storm; 

I saw the clouds so closely pack 

That held the surf upon their back. 



There was a strip across the east, 

Whereon my eyes did longing feast; 

I gazed right on so long and still 
That all my soul did seem to fill. 



It was a lake with borrowed blue, 

All backed with circling land so true; 

The waters splashed about my feet, 

While music seemed my ear to greet. 



It was the music from the bar, 

Where billowed- waves had crossed from far; 
And rushed on shore like mad'ning steeds, 

As swift as storm bears past the reeds. 



176 



■■■' '■.^?~-^>!.tf;jv»*^.: ^,! 



I saw the billows raging white, 

That lashed a neigh 'ring isle in spite; 
I saw some boats, white-sailed adrift 

To 'scape the isle did ever shift. 



I saw a steamer stern and strong, 

All followed by dense smoke along ; 

It anchored silv'ry- sided shore, 
As if to stay forever more. 



I saw dark pines on islets rock, 

That seemed this world's vain hopes to mock; 
All dark the background sullen lay. 

While islets dotted every bay. 



That world enchanted nearer grew, 
Till all complete it filled my view, 

The sun was hid behind that cloud 
That belted all the world around. 



And yet His glory made this world, 

Where Beauty's self her flag unfurled. 

'Tis sure that God will ever meet. 
If we but stop his face to greet. 



177 



fIDoncijet) ant) fIDoneijleee* 

At last the weary day did end — 

A day in which he much did lend: 

"Just two per cent per month he cried; 
On these hard times I have relied." 



He loved to hear his money chink; 

But ne'er of heaven did he think. 
He cursed the men who poor by fate, 

Brought him their gold a day too late. 



He sent afar for raiment bright; 

And curst his town with all his might; 
Because all did not buy of him: 

His humour best was almost grim. 



178 



He pushed his way to palace home, 
All but as rich as Peter's Rome, 

He met his child with brigh'est face, 
A face so full of God's first grace. 



The child did prattle of his play; 

And tell how he had spent the day. 
In joy his wagon he did fill 

With wheat to grind in yonder mill. 



And then the poor he did supply — 

The lack of money did defy. 
The father felt the bitter sting, 

Which this sweet child to him did bring. 



While prattling of the gay, gay day, 
Which father spent in forcing pay, 

From men whose farms with toil were bent — 
Their lives for him they each had spent. 



179 

(12) 



C(tv> IbotcL 

Our Dave *doth give the best of meat; 

And will insist on more shall eat, 
His beds are soft as eider down; 

And we return as birds home-flown. 



He doth not push us for the pay; 

But waits on us a long, long day. 
His dining maids are Beauty's own 

As years long gone to us have shown. 



He has a brother we call George, 

Whose father fought at Valley Forge, 

This George is Honor's own dear child; 
And not a hair of George is loild. 



180 



Man&ering Millie ]from Heaven* 

Our Wandering Willie from heaven came; 

And bro't to us angelic fame. 
He wanders, wanders all the day, 

Prom heaven strayed so far away. 



He is a boy that we love well — 

He holds us by his magic spell. 

He works and toils that he may give 
To us a better chance to live. 



He barrels makes the long, long day, 
That he may give away his pay; 

His wealth he gives to tramps who ask, 
Tho' ne'er so thin may be their mask. 



When left he heaven for this earth, 
He was in glory all engirth, 

That glory still see we in him, 
He bore alone as seraphim. 



181 



His heart is greater than his wealth; 

He never can grow rich by stealth. 
To all the boys; he is tlie boy 

They ever hail with greatest joy. 



In form and face he is a man, 

As fair as Eve when world began; 

He is so tall that he can see 

What things to-day in heaven be. 

» 

He is in love with all the fair; 

And hence not much disposed to pair; 
He is too young to marry yet\ 

But some fair day don 't you forget. 

Of Wandering Will we are so proud, 

Well sing this rhyme both long and loud; 

Because he never fails his friends; 

But all his wealth to them he lends. 



182 



(Tbina Me&£>ing. 



The twentieth anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Kingsbury's 
wedding, was celebrated at their home by a china wedding on 
November the 14th, 1900. The author was an invited guest. The fol- 
lowing stanza accompanied his present. 



May twenty years again return; 

And Love's pure light for your aye burn. 
May all your years like rivers flow; 

And all your pathway brighter grow. 



183 



I send to thee this marriage fee, 

That is just earned from one most learned, 
A doctor bright, who is alright, 

Who ever wills to cure life's ills. 



By his own mind he aids mankind; 

He drives the blood like living flood. 
To ev'ry part right thro' the heart, 

He is a man who holds the van; 



Because as brave as ocean wave. 

That all alone will mount his throne; 

And cross the bar to realm afar — 

No guide it knows where'er it flows. 



184 



So he alone did mount Ms throne, 

A throne of doubt which men did scout. 

He still holds sway and has his way, 
Altho' in spite men we tho't white, 



Did track with hound his ev'ry round, 

They have in vain declared him slain; 

He lives as true as yon bent blue, 

Doth stretch yon rill, just by the mill. 



In all his woe he found no foe, 

In one fair maid, who by him staid; 

Her life so pure did him allure — 

Her love to him will not grow dim. 



To-day she gave her hand to save, 

This bach'lor's life from lonely strife, 

Where he has fought and honor bought. 
Enough to share and both well fare. 



185 



^0 2)r. MilUain Cal&well. 

Thou hast for years been aye my Friend, 
And such will be until the end; 

You are as polished as the past, 

Where you were first and shall be last. 



You are so staunch, so firm, so true; 

You bending yield, like yonder blue, 
Your manners from the South are brought; 

Y^ur honor never yet was bought. 



186 



-'>ffr.^>mr-^r'r^'m9qfVKKi^lll9^-^ff^' 



an IboteL 



There is a place that I know well — 
It is Dave Scillin's good hotel; 

It is a home for all the lost 

And at the very smallest cost. 



It is the finest in the state, 

To which we all come soon or late; 
The beds are soft with feath'ry down — 

The finest springs in all the town. 



Whene'er he sets us down to eat, 

We find the finest tend'rest meat. 

He has a clerk, we all call George, 
As brave as days of Valley Forge. 



187 



A woman came one moon- lit night; 

And challenged Dajve, "Come out and fight," 
He begged for her to wait for George, 

Who fights like men at Valley Forge. 



"You owe a dollar," she exclaims; 

I base on days gone by my claims, 
When paid for room I never gained; 

Because in town I ne'er remained. " 



She clinched her speech with one great rock; 

And then at Dave she threw his clock; 
The State doth now her bills all pay; 

In building brick, across the way. 



188 



Poems of tm. 



« « « 



My queen has hair as dark as night; 
Her eyes o'ermatch the starry light, 
That tells the earth of heaven home, 
Beyond the deep and bending dome. 



Her form is lithe as willows be. 
That bend o'er stream their gods to see, 
Her smile is all that heavens give — 
I would miss all with her to live. 



Her face is all alit in light, 

From land that knows no day or night. 

Her step is quick when I appear; 

Her smile most sweet when I draw near. 



189 



And can I, shall I, doubt her love? 
Ah no! as will doubt God above! 
Her love, her life, her self is mine; 
And she herself is all divine. 



Her life strikes mine as in the yore ; 
And shall strike mine forever more. 
Come life, come death, come all that be, 
My love av^ake, in sleep, I see. 



190 



Sbe Xeft me for a IRicber flDan^ 

love, my love, my pure, my fair, 

1 know that we shall never pair: 

I know our lives are severed wide; 
For so the Fates do now decide. 



It was a father 's cherished hate, 
That took you to the Golden Gate, 
Where sad your eyes the Ocean view- 
Your love to me is ever new. 



I know the man who tries to win 
I see him now with senseless grin, 
How can he gain my Nellie's love; 
And heaven know a God above? 



He was my classmate in days past, 
The drag, the drudge, the dunce, the last; 
His forehead slants too far for brain, 
Shall he my Nellie ever gain? 



19 i 



I do not know— a father's will, 

Hath left him wealth in land *and mill, 

He has his time to give to thee — 

And canst tlioio change, take Mm for me? 



Ah, yes! I see an island bare — 
It is the place where I must fare. 
I watch yon ship on tidal wave 
And wish to be within my grave. 



It is the barque of two I know, 
Borne on the ocean's stormy flow. 
I dare not wish the vessel harm; 
For this would cause sweet Nell, alarm. 



O God, how can I, pray for Nell; 
And wish that villain ever well? 
Ah yes! these tivo, I'm told are one\ 
So help me say thy will be done. 



192 



Zhc Citi? Cbap anb Cora. 

Joe loved sweet Cora with his might, 
Tho' oft his love would Cora slight. 
At length a ring this Cora wore — 
Such bliss plain Joe ne'er knew before. 



The days flowed one till that one came, 
When Cora vowed to bear Joe^s name. 
The wedding guests drove in from far; 
But where was Cora, faithless star? 



A note she left that did explain; 
"I know Joe's love I'll ne'er regain 
He has been patient all his life, 
Tho' I have made him awful strife. 



He begged me leave the city chap, 
Whose drink at last would bring mishap. 
He found that Charlie and I met; 
And this forgave and seemed forget. 



193 



He does not know our secret plan; 
He is too pure, too good a man 
To think that I so false could be— 
He could no fault in me e'er see. 



Before you read this note of mine, 
I shall be wed by laws divine. 
I do not ask you to forgive 
So false a life I now do live.'' 

jf: * * 



A year passed bj^ and then the grass, 
Began to grow on grave, alas! 
The grave that covered Cora's form — 
She had been wrecked in ^ercest storm. 



Ten years dragged on and no one knew 
About poor Joe; for he withdrew 
To parts unknown on that curst day, 
When Cora passed from him away. 



194 



iwm wi ''W' M i' I" * ' 



And then her mother's sweet, x>ale face, 
Was hid, where flowers strew the place, 
A stone's throw from that dreaded spot. 
Where flowers begged, "Forget me not." 



So some went o'er to read the stone, 
Where Cora's form was all alone. 
The foremost stopped and shrieked "I see 
Some form upon her grave there be." 



It was the form of stalwart Joe, 
Too good betray a friend or foe; 
He died upon that maiden's grave, 
Whose life he tried in vain to save. 



195 

(13) 



lflo\^ Summer Jf^ic^^. 

Why sit so sad in this t^hid time? 
Know not that Spriiii:: is in her prime? 
Why not, sweet maid, in month of May, 
Be happy all the day and gay? 



**It was in Spring wiien Charlie came- 
I never meant to tell his name. 
I tho'the was like heaven, true, 
As God himself beyond the blue. 

lie left 'fore Pall could quite decide 
How just the seasons should decide. 
Ho wrote a time or two and then 
He failed in that, in word, in pen. 



At length the days so long became, 
That Spring had time to write her name 
In blossoms white and blossoms gay, 
Till men declare once more "'Tis May." 



196 



And then a paper came to me, 
In which his marriage I did see: 
He won my love to throw away — 
What care I now for month of May ? 



"Ah yes! my Flo; but then you'll meet, 
In land of love where lovers greet, 
And there your love will aye be new; 
For aye your love will be in view." 



'Tis true; but then he'll love his love, 
In that fair land which is above. 
And in that life I'll ever see 
That hand-in-hand they aye will be." 



197 



H Xove5 Ibcr but Sbe Xcft me* 

She passed adown the grassy glen, 

To house once-built by busy men; 

And here she robed with lightest breath: 

Alas! she robed for her own death. 

She stept into the waters deep; 

And moved as one will do in sleep. 

She little knew Niag'ra's flood, 

That had death -chilled the youngest blood. 



It has been known to fiercly hurl 
The strongest men in mighty whirl. 
There are no hopes unless you know 
Just where the waters treach'rous flow; 
Just where the rocky ledges bend, 
Where life and death do ready blend; 
Just where all feeble made the will 
Of many men now dead and still. 



She saw her sister struggle fierce — 
And did not wait her cry to pierce — 



198 



But soon forgot her own young life 
To help the other in her strife. 
She reached her hand; but all in vain: 
She failed her sister to regain. 
And then the current mighty grew, 
Till took them both from mortal view. 



She had for three brief years been mine, 

And knew I well she was divine. 

But little tho't I that her God 

Would make me pass beneath the rod. 

A wand'rer for so many years 

In spite of penitential tears. 

I know her life so good, so pure 

That heaven did her aye allure. 



But little dreamed that she would be 
So soon, my God, at home with thee. 
As years roll on what doth she know, 
Of tho 'ts my own which upward flow. 
As clouds from stream or silent sea, 
Will rise and rest on highest lea? 



199 



Is she asleep where daisies grow. 
Or far beyond with crowne'd brow? 



She's gone, I wander all alone; 

It seems that God forsakes His throne; 

The dark doth drive the light apace — 

Forever hid is God's own face. 

Long yesternights all ghastly grim, 

O'erlap my past, all dull and dim; 

My future is a gath'ring night 

Too dark to pierce by strongest light. 



200 



Ikati? Xee anb Cbarlie Ma?- 

They walked across the grassy field; 

For Charley was fair Katy's shield. 
In school and out, as days sped by; 

And Katy's eyes aye made reply. 



They reached the bottom of the hill. 
Where babbled by the noisy rill; 

And here her eyes of sweetest blue 

Just caught his own of brown so true. 



Their cheeks turned crimson in their hue, 

Whose eyes were brown and eyes were blue, 

At length said Kate to Charlie meek, 

Whose honest blood still flushed his cheek: 



* 'You carry aye that basket wide — 
It must be heavy at your side: 

I will help half up this steep hill" — 

Each -carries half with right good will. 



201 



The eyes of brown met eyes of blue; 

But turned away some sight to sue, 
Far up the height up which they past, 

Two pair of eyes an instant cast. 



The years speed by and eyes still blue, 
Are bent on basket to pursue 

The dimple 'son a baby's face, 

That had begun life's earnest race. 



This basket was both high and wide; 

And had two rockers at its side. 
The eyes of brown and eyes of blue, 

Were each to each forever true. 



202 



IRo mew feat's mt, Xove. 

O Love a year ago we stood, 
Beside the altar of the Good; 
And there we vowed each other love, 
Before our God who rules above. 



The vows then spoken I re-call; 
And know them broken one and all : 
You spend your days in business place; 
At night I rarely see your face. 



Your club, your chess, your cards, have care. 
While I alone at home do fare: 
You spent your Christmas at the Hall, 
While none on me all day did call. 



You bring to me no simple gift, 
The cloud of grief from me to lift; 
You know my mother lately died, 
Altho' on her 1 all relied. 



2Q3 



You brought no ribbon for my hair — 

Love, am I no longer fair? 

1 know to you I am as true, 

As God's own self in yonder blue. 



And yet you slight me evr'y day; 
And stay all even' far away; 
O Love, my heart will break for love, 
You promised me 'fore God above. 



204 



HMeu flDi2 Xove- 

Adieu, my fair, my sweet, my love, 
As fair as God's own self above, 
Adieu my love, thou hast been true, 
As heaven's self beyond the blue. 

Adieu, my love, we met so sure, 
As heaven's self did aye allure. 
Adieu, my love we shall aye meet, 
Where rain-bow glory doth us greet. 

Adieu, my love in mansion's fair, 
We shall aye meet and ever pair. 
Adieu, my love, more pure than snow, 
My heaven, hope, my all below. 



Adieu, my own, with eyes, so blue, 
Adieu, my own, with eyes so true. 
Adieu, my love, more fair than rose; 
Adieu, my own, in calm repose. 



205 



poor, but iHapin^ 

I had ono liimo within my vest; 

And wiiwS nioro happy than tho rost. 
My lifo was tiUod with happy irKM>; 

T lovod swooti^fiii, no woaHli b\it lhtH>. 

Thoso woro my brightest, swootost days; 

I san^jJC so froo our roundahiys. 
I know my Mary ever fair; 

Was not in haste with her to pair; 

Because my faith in her was all; 

Which nauj^'ht could wreck or iiivat or siua 
The days sped by in countless tliiiht; 

And there came on tins direful night. 

My Mary wH^rked to help me g*ain 

That eurse'd gold I still retain : 
I faiU>d to see how much it cost, 

Till Mary, all I had, was lost. 

O Mary, little did I know 

The weight you bore ou earth below 
And all that 1 might gain great gold; 

And place my fair in ground so cold. 



She JK ah punt us JJJJes fair. 

With aynH ho blue, a maUtYiUiHH pair. 
She dances on the V>row of day. 

Like Hkiff a^^Utixm ho far away. 



To do for her is sweet/iSt task; 

Yea, all thf; joy thiat one oxmld ask. 
Her smiles are more t^> me than life — 
They banish evVy form of strife. 



The ^>oys all jeer as we pass by, 

But not to them we deign reply; 

I soothe her feelings with a kiss — 

The gods ne'er know so great a bliss. 



207 



Z\)c Moman U Xove* 

What is she to me? 

My earth-star, image, gleam of light. 

Once born to banish endless night. 

As morning star is not of earth, 

Too modest to know its own worth, 

Retires as soon as day appears. 

So she divine, divinely bears 

A human form— ah, such a form! 

Her hair takes twilight from strong morn 

Blends not with gold or silver mates; 

Its hue from every beauty takes. 

Her eyes will change — but count them blue- 

Her cheek disdains the roses hue; 

And will not own the lily's white. 

Her lips so ruby-red, invite 

The pure, the good, the ever true; 

And words from them ne'er formed to rue. 

Her motion's free with modesty. 

She glides as silver stream at night 

Majestically moves 'tween the snows; 

Or where the fairest lily grows: 

So moves she down the path of life 

In calmest calm or awful strife. 



208 



Is my love strong to her? 

Do you doubt Niagara's strength, 

Uprooting rocks thro' all her length: 

And forcing trees from destiny? 

And thus she blends both rock and tree; 

And buries luckless wight in sea, 

So strong is my love to her. 



How deep? As deep as all ages 
Yea, as Eternity's wages. 



How enduring? 

Tell me how many drops there be 
Of water in the deep blue sea; 
Tell me how many moments take 
The round eternity to make. 
Then ask me how long I shall love 
This love whom I shall love above. 



But what of her love to me? 
Well, it is passionate and pure; 
And when heaven's gone, will endure. 
It does not come from this, our earth; 
Its source is heaven where its worth. 
Will hasten ever as per force 



209 



A river returns to its source. 
So her love seeks aye its own place; 
But when returning with quick pace, 
It lodges a moment with me 
Before reaching eternity. 



But why dwell we so far apart, 
If, as vowed, we are, of one heart? 



Barriers are not burned away; 

For as a ship's compass is true; 

And the load star almost in view; 

Yet, if her helm will not obey 

The master's hand she drifts away; 

So with me for I will not heed, 

And hence drift, drift with awful speed. 



What will be the end of all? 

At last I hope God rights mistakes; 

And in the silent valley takes 

These hands, these hearts, these hopes, these fears 

And hides them where but love appears. 

When into her image transformed 

My next life shall not be deformed. 



210 



II H)reame& tbat Xove voae Beat)* 

A solemn silence reigns in air, 
A dismal dark has draped the fair; 
And sweetest spot Oswego knows, 
Where soft and still Neosho flows. 
'Tis found away from busy town 
On banks as green as God has sown. 



'Tis found where God's own Hand is seen 
In gayest dell thro' leafy screen; 
Where Hope may live and Faith abide 
For all the day till eventide. 
There, modest curtains weave in gray 
To close the long and dreary day. 



I gazed adown the dreary dell; 
I heard the fruit that lonely fell; 
I climbed the weary, weary hill; 
I listened to the gurgling rill. 
Adown the glen across the stream, 
I heard a sober screech owl scream. 



211 

(14) 



The crows were blown 'gainst blackest sky 
They seek the dense dark pine whose high 
And great branch, beckons to one alone. 
Alone, he stands, all, all alone! 
For Love is dead, there's naught instead. 
My Hope, is fled for Love is dead. 



No bird in air, no bird on tree. 
Pours forth its sweetest melody. 
For me no more the rose shall blow; 
For me no more sweet lilies grow; 
For me no more the rainbow bend; 
For me no more the daisy lend 



Its fragrance sweet in grassy dell. 
To me the night grows dark as hell, 
I wake and great is my surprise 
To find that Love stands by and smiles. 
Ah Love will live beyond the bar. 
And ave will be mv risins: star. 



212 



Certainty. 



There is a place to which I turn, 
An altar that doth ever burn, 

With love as pure, as holy true, 

As God himself beyond the blue. 



There is a life enrapt in mine, 
A life of love that is divine; 

0"'here is a life as pure as snow, 
A life divine altho' below. 



There is a life so sweet and pure. 
It doth the heavens aye allure. 

There is a life with so much grace, 
That God is written in her face. 



There is a life that doth me give 

The hopes, the fears for which I live. 

There is a life that's grander, far 

Than God's own ling'ring morning star 



213 



Mitbout a Mife. 

He passed adown the dreary, dreary dale; 
Alone he views one cloud of fleecy white; 
So lone it comes between him and moon pale. 
The widowed moon close vails herself in spite 
Of fact, her lord, her glory, deathless power 
Shines full and free beneath yon circling bound 
And gives her life her woes her every hour, 
When night her modest curtain draws around 
The sunset hour thus hides our world profound. 
He hates the shadow that fill every bower. 
He feels the darkness steal his little light; 
He shiudders, shrinks from shadowed power 
That holds him, strive as he may to be bright 
Yon cavern deep with mouth agap so wide 
This wretch doth mock and seem to say: "Cease 

strife 
For here this dark and lone spot will decide 
Your fate, most luckless wight, without a wife 
My name is death, and my embrace will end thy 

life. 
As wifeless man doth pass the lonely wood, 
One crow caws, caws at him from tall tree 
He hates, he hopes, he fears that nothing good, 
Can come to one who loves no one to be 
A sharer of his home, his wealth, his love 
He thinks yon bending blue may vengeance take — 

214 



He fears this life and dreads the life above: 

He finds his life one terrible mistake 

He asks himself ''Why did I not a wife once take? 

This man was rich and in mansion dwelt, 

And Tom, his valet, his horses tended; 

Now Tom did this for pelf, because felt 

No throb of love for one who pretended 

That he detested love and women sweet, 

Tom, master of bis master in this life; 

For in his cabin his eyes aye did meet from wife, 

That glance of love that comes not save from 

wife. 
And Tom's home sweet was haven safe from 

worldly strife. 
This wifeless man was out of harmony 
With woods, with dale, with hope, with self, with 

love. 
Nay; fought he uselessly his destiny; 
For cloud in air will seek its mate above 
And failing this dissolves itself in tears; 
Thus seeks its own in stream or ocean blue; 
Yea; even the lily milk-white modest rears 
Its slender form to kiss the sunbeam true, 
All things by love are planned and made forever 

new. 



215 



Mitb a Mife. 



This man so vile as not to love 

A brotlier had who was above 

A life so mean ne 'er Cupid caught, 

Wliose path by Love was aye web-fraught, 

In truth his feet were ever found 
Pursuing Love's enchanted ground. 
At nine he first began his race 
In Cupid's land, where face to face, 



He met with May beside the rill 
Where gurgling waters kissed the hill. 
Next Lily won his heart one day, 
When birds sang love in month of May. 



Then Jennie, sweet, his love compels 
And lists while he the story tells, 
Now, as the boy, his toy- ship tries 
On creek and bay, his father plies. 



216 



So Edward e'er he tries the main, 
Must love and love and love again. 
At last the boy will leave boy's life 
And seek the world and worldly strife. 



Then leave his play-ship on the shore 
And seeks one that shall evermore, 
His fortunes share from sea to sea. 
Till tide brings in eteraity. 



So Edward left these early toys 
Before began life's pains and joys. 
He wandered long in many climes; 
And heard St. Peter as it chimes. 



O'er Tiber's wave, so strong and true. 
There hangs the sky in endless blue. 
He saw the fair in London gay; 
He heard the birds sing love in May. 



But back he came to native land 
Before he sought and found her hand. 
Whose eyes spake love to hird in life, 
Whose voice could hush the awful strife. 



217 



Which comes to all who fight the fight 
Of truth and right in heaven's light. 
His craft was borne adown the stream 
Where life is dark without a gleam, 



Of heaven save from woman born 
To love, to rule, to calm the storm 
Of life, so rugged, so danger bound, 
So Edward in her fond glance found 



A home of light, a victory, 

A power shaped his destiny. 

Her bow, her glance, the touch of hand 

Empowered him in dismal land, 



Where alljwas dark and hopeless fight. 
Brought gleam not one of heaven's light, 
As lone star brings the ship to bay; 
So Edward's wife failed not a day. 



Till Edward's voyage on life's sea. 
Brought him the bliss eternity; 
And now he waits in realms afar. 
Where he has met his earthly star. 



218 



I loved her in the time of May 
When burst ■ her roses into gay; 

I loved her much in month of June 
When birds pour forth their sweetest tune. 



I loved her in the bleak, bleak fall, 
When pine bowed low its tassel tall, 

While winds swept by in hurried race, 
As if they sought a safer place. 



I loved her when the winter wild, 
Cried loud and long as if her child. 

Had died before the robe of snow, 
Had buried deep all things below. 



I loved her when I saw her form. 
Close-cloaked to brave the fiercest storm; 

I loved her when her form was bent 
Like Shepherd crook as aid she lent 



To child by dire misfortune cast. 
Beside the way while hurry past, 

The men with mind all bent on gold; 
And leave the waif to die of cold. 

219 



Mj^ MarjT-'s dead and torn from me 
She sleeps the sleep Eternity. 

The mocking* bird makes music now 
On weeping willows bending low. 



The willow^ bends o'er gurgling stream 
Whose waters bosom sunset's gleam; 

The willow shades that sacred spot, 
Where lies the fair I ne'er forgot. 



My Mary makes my heart most sad- 
The neighbors say I'm raving mad: 

I know, I feel I am most wild; 
For I am Melancholy's child. 



O Mary sweet, I love you yet; 
Your love to me I'll ne'er forget, 

O Mary, tell me dost thou know 
The tho'ts of mortals here iSelow? 



O Mary, tell me, gentle, good, 
Hast thou my love yet understood? 

O Mary, tell me hast thou light, 
In land that knows not day or night. 



220 



ZTbe IPouuQ flDillionaire* 



My father's home was built by stream, 
Where waters dance all day agleam. 

On island backed by rocky cliff — 

In bay on front lay father's skiif. 



My father was a banker kind, 

Whom poor and rich did always find 
At home to all their wants and pains 

To bless the vs^orthy with his gains. 



My mother with her angel light. 

Would banish aye the darkest night. 

She kept her youth so fresh and pure, 
It seemed she heaven did allure. 



My father's doors were open wide 

For all who nobly did decide 
To launch their barque on life's greatest sea, 

To try their fate away from lea. 



221 



A ward the poor our home had found, 
Most happy place above the ground; 

Our fathers' once were college mates, 
Ne'er kept apart by many states. 



Before his prime her father died; 

And she on us has since relied; 
Because her mother tasted death, 

When drew her child its first life's breath. 



At school while still a young lad raw 
I bent my efforts to the law; 

At nineteen came I to the bar 

And hoped ere loug to be a star. 



My father planned two years at Rome, 

Which mother had me spend at home; 

Because my health was more to me 
Than all old Rome could ever be. 



Now Alice was a graduate 

And soon alighted at our gate. 

Where she as ward had lived so long 
She found her life as blithe as song. 



009 



And soon sweet Alice kept me home, 

Thus ceased my care for ancient Rome; 

The days more swift than Fancy's wing 
Al] joys from Cupid us did bring. 



The love to me which Alice brought, 
Ne'er came to me till I had sought 

To find such love in circles gay 
In mansions great so far away. 



Tho' young, I was, I had been taught 
That glitters glare is dearly fraught 

With foes so fierce that they will find 
A place to canker purest mind. 



So Alice, nature's sweetest child; 

Was fair to me as flower wild. 
Which braves the storm on mountain's brow 

To hide the time when sun shall glow. 



There was one thing which made me sad, 
Or else my heart had aye been glad; 

As sweetest bloom upon the tree 

May carry death within you see. 



223 



As sad I was as sad could be 

Tho' birds sang love on ev'ry tree; 
And Alice' love was true to me, 

As heaven's self could ever be. 



In day or niglit I viewed the lake, 
In day or night would Alice take, 

Behind the men I did not lag, 

Tho' of my skill I need not brag. 



My friends up town would tell me how 

Renown for me would crown my brow; 

Because my father's wealth so vast, 
Would push me forward to the last. 



They pointed to my college race. 

Where once I held the chiefest place 

And said: "Why stop till you shall know 
The highest place on earth below. " 



As some great ship on ocean wide. 

May spring a leak, yet waters ride; 

And proudly call to make reply 
To other ship that passes by. 



224 



But soon as past in bitter pain 

Cries out for other ship remain; 

For souls on board will perish soon, 

And black as night is brightest noon, 



So in my heart I carried death; 

And felt her pangs with ev'ry breath. 
I was a wreck on life's great tide, 

Tho' knew not she, my promised bride. 



1 dared not tell her what I knew — 

How dim were all things to my view 

Each day I felt my sight give way 

Each day my eyes would lose the ray. 



Now Alice to her uncle went: 

And there the summer months she spent. 
While dreamed of bliss that soon would be — 

But never dreamed I could not see. 



I did not tell my father kind — 

He knew too well his son was blind; 

And mother wept to see me stand 

To wait for guidance from her hand. 



-1Z> 



The doctors summoned far and near 

First filled with hope and then with fear. 

One said the ball was hard as stone; 
And I could never go alone. 



Another that the optic nerve, 

Was dead and never could me serve. 
They left me worse each time they came, 

Till Hope displaced her very name. 



I thought that Alice ought to know 

How changed my prospects here below. 

I sought her hand when all was bright — 
How would she bear this endless night? 



I tho't her letters now quite cold. 

Ah! has she found a lover bold? 
Or did she know that I was blind, 

And could she be to me unkind? 



Or would she rally to my side, 

With love that conquers even pride? 
At last a letter left at gate, 

Said: "Alice will be there not late." 



226 



Just then my father sudden died; 

And wealth on which we had relied, 
Was swept by panic great that year; 

Which filled our lives with awful fear. 



My mother, noblest of her race, 

Gave up her all, e'en island place. 

She said for debt take all you see: 

But leave my darling son with me. 



I wept to hear my mother's voice; 

And in my blindness did rejoice, 
Tho' I was sad to think that she, 

Should burden bear in useless me. 



I could not tell my mother sweet — 

My blinded eyes could not hers greet 

To tell how much I loved that day, 

When all our wealth was swept away. 



But soon my mother quickly saw; 

For Love's not bounded by a law; 
And placed a kiss upon my brow 

And said: "My son /love you now.' 



227' 
(16) 



We lived on father's pension then . 

In cottage small just by a glen, 
Where happy birds their songs did sing, 

As sped they by on swiftest wing. 



I learned that Alice had a name 

On stage as actress and her fame, 

Had gone abroad so far and -wide, 

That rich would boast they'd heard with pride. 



My love to her w^as stronger now; 

Than when I gazed upon her brow. 
So full and broad with Fancy's thought. 

Which training long to her had brought. 



We took her when ^he w^as a child— 
A flower sweet and fair, tho' wild. 

Would it be bread on waters cast? 

Would she remember what had past? 



At length she came as was arranged: 

But ah! so much she had been changed. 

She placed no kiss upon my brow 
Her hand so cold — I feel it now^ 



228 



Her love to all who had been kind, 
Had fled from me for I was blind: 

She told me she had met with him, 

Who once did court her for a whim, 



Young Willie Wade had woed and won 
And so their hearts in unison, 

Would beat and throb on life's great stream 
Which me denied of light, one gleam 



In days gone by we were class mates 

Altho' we hailed from diff'rent states. 

He was the sneak in ev'ry class; 

Because the foot knew him alas! 



One day my Alice he did slight 

In word to me; because one night 

At party Alice did him show" 

Disdain she felt for one so low. 



I struck him full upon the face, 

And on the ground he found his place; 
He bled like Abel struck by Cain 

Andtho't I then vile Will is slain. 



229 



And yet my heart did not regret; 

For hot the blood that made me fret 
To think that Alice sweet should be, 

Reviled by one so vile as he. 



At length a doctor to him came 

And saved a life; tho' vile the name. 

From then the gulf did wider grow 

No face on earth can bridge it now. 



But then they met upon the stage, 
That season she was all the rage. 

So soon will sound the marriage bell, 
While I am hid in deepest hell. 



I clinched my hands when Alice told 
How she her life to Wade had sold. 

I felt my lips so tight compress — 

No word escapes — ''curse or to bless. '^ 



I left her in our parlor small 

And groped my way along the hall 
To place that hid me from her view, 

Where thoughts apace upon me grew. 



230 



I found my mind was filled with blood 
As hate poured in its awful flood 

I knew why Cain his brother slew 

With God's own altar still in view. 



Oh, foul the Fiend, you Jealous Hate, 
Why 'bide so near fair Cupid's gate, 

How can you dwell in home of love. 
Which God doth enter from above? 



How can my heart my neighbor hate 
Still sue for mercy at the gate, 

That opens wide or day or night; 

And never doth the vilest slight? 



So long I lay upon the bed 

With hands unstained in crimson red 
Tho' breathed foul murder in my mind 

In hate to him who was my kind. 



In sight of God I stood that day. 
As far from him as Cain away 

In days long since when Abel died; 
Because He on His God relied. 



231 



Just then my mother came to me, 

Bright harbinger of peace was she; 

And placed her hand upon my brow, 

And left a kiss that seems there now 



And then she vanished from my side; 

So vanished too my haughty pride : 
I cried as child, then sobbed aloud 

And asked myself, "Ah, why so proud? 



At last our Alice passed away 

To wed with Wade, so vile tho' gay; 
And soon I learned that marriage bell, 

Did sink her life with ne'er-do-well. 



A year thence mother came to me: 

And said "Don't hard with Alice be: 

You little know how much you've changed, 
Since loss of sight your life deranged. 



You shun the things that once you sought 

You hate the things that once you bought 

By toil so hard both early, late — 

You lost your sight at wisdom's gate 



232 



Ah, then prevented by your pride 

You never sought sweet Alice side: 

To her you seemed to grow most cold; 
And hence she sought another fold. 



Just then the world her talent knew; 

And Fortune's gate wide open flew. 
You never tried this gulf to span; 

And then she met this other man. 



O son my own, my darling boy, 

You are my hope; yea, all my joy; 

You know for you my life I live; 

I would have you all men forgive. 



You seem to hate this vile young Wade; 

But know you not that soon the spade. 
Will turn the sod to make his grave, 

E'en now in tremens he doth rave. 



Sweet Alice with her baby lives. 

Where this poor world no honor gives- 

In poverty she's sunk so deep 

The hill you climb is not so steep." 



233 



Black Dina came one day in five 

And news from her I would derive: 

Was giad to hear her good and true, 
When so much else I had to rue. 



Black Dina saw our better days, 

When Alice sang her girlish lays: 

And Dina often to us came, 

Tho' lost our wealth and all our fame. 



I much disliked our frugal fare, 

And tho't we better could pj-epare; 

For selfish as a man could be — 

Poor mother's pains I could not see. 



But Dina said that mother saw 

The time would come when on the law 
I should depend for daih^ bread, 

Unless she saved for me instead. 



The nurse kept on her awful tale 

Till shook my frame as oak in gale- 
She told of mother's faded dress: 

But people loved her none the less. 



234 



They said how changed the banker's wife, 
Who once was all of Fashion's life; 

She once had been the first in town, 
Who now denied herself a ^own. 



How glad I was when Dina stopt; 

For cruel were the words she dropt. 
I felt like thief that was entrapt, 

With stolen goods on person wrapt. 



My mother was of Southern birth; 

And by the noblest once engirth: 
Her pride I knew as great as mine; 

And yet of late she seemed divine. 



This, double night thro* which I past, 
May bring to me the light at last, 

From him who is this dark world's light, 
From Him who knows no day or night. 



The story of His matchless life, 

Which ended 'mid such bitter strife 

A crown of thorns upon his brow — 
It seems to me I see Him now. 



2.35 



in days gone by I used to think, 

That men who preach from Moses' drink. 
Before they told how sun grew pale 

At noon seemed but a fairy tale. 



That Christ should die for fiercest hate — 
For them to enter heaven's gate 

That He might change their nature's wild 
Did seem to me but fit for child. 



But since for self I ever live; 

And yet I've one that now doth give 
Her life, her hopes, her all for me 

I can Incarnate One now see. 



I spend this life in endless night; 

And yet may find sweet heaven's light. 
Perhaps at portals of the grave, 

May dance the light on boundless wave. 



236 



Perhaps my barque is anchored now; 

And waits with Him upon the prow, 
To bear me where 'tis ever light; 

And leave behind this endless night. 



I am not yet for Him transformed: 
My life by sin is all deformed. 

And yet my mother's God may be, 

Will send me light and set me free. 



237 



Under the willow she's sleeping now; 

Under the willow with placid brow. 
Under the wallow with hair of gold; 

Under the willow so still and cold. 



Under the willow now sleeps my fair. 
Under the willow with golden hair; 

Under the willow she's slept for j^ears. 

And still are fallino- these useless tears. 



By the willow fresh do waters gleam; 

By the willow the same dear old stream, 
On whose water our boat did glide. 

Days long since when she was by my side. 



On the willow the mocking'bird sings; 

But joy none to my heavy heart brings. 
Under the willow now sleeps my fair, 

Under the willow with golden hair. 



23S 



You are as false as you are fair; 

I hate your face and yellow hair; 
You tried your art upon my mind, 

But failed in me a dupe to find. 



You spoke to me with eyes so blue — 
I knew your wiles were all untrue; 

You met me when 1 passed your street, 
And with the sweetest smile did greet. 



Your lips did part in seeming smile; 

And all that you might me beguile; 
You came with charms to^catch my cash- 

Than yield to you I'll suffer lash. 



239 



I am as cold to you as he. 

Whom we on earth no more can see- 
His ashes lie so cold and still; 

He never hears the bubblino- rill. 



You duped the boy with jouv line art, 
So well you played the fiendish part. 

His sister hates your very look. 

For you from her, her brother took. 



Your form, your face, your dress, your wealth. 

Will never gain my heart by stealth. 
Go show the world how better live, 

Your charms, your wealth to poorer give. 



240 



^be ©entleman jfUrt, 

You winking, blinking coward fool; 

You are your own and others' tool: 
You are despised by all the men; 

Yoi:( should be barred secure in pen. 



You look and leer and love and hate — 
You are not worth the meanest mate. 

You work to woe and win that one, 

Who'll dupe you sure when her part's done. 

The ladies laugh when you go by — 

How can they now on you rely? 
They love the all-sou led manly man; 

And have since Eve our race began, 



They are more shrewd than you by far; 

They wish you o'er the ocean bar. 
Your name would not on card appear. 

Were it not for your sister dear. 



Go! change your vicious, coward life; 

And bear a loart of battle's strife. 
You are the meanest of your kind; 

Go where you will, no worse you'll find. 



241 



Zhc Xover'6 Xament* 

She said she 'd meet me on a block — 
I little dreamed that she would mock: 
I walked and walked and walked that night, 
Before the stars peeped forth so bright. 



She saw me from her window wide, 
While all my hopes she did deride. 
The moon appears with face half -hid, 
As this false maid did lover rid. 



I knew the moon looked down on me; 
And yet her face I dared not see. 
At first I tho't my loved detained. 
While on that block I long remained. 



At last I knew that I was fooled; 

And then my love for her soon cooled. 

I sneaked adown a desert street; 

Lest some fair friend my face should greet. 



242 



I found the door from Jones' back yard; 
And sought to shun my dearest pard. 
I sought my study, sullen, stern, 
As if I had been vilest kern. 



I tried to study out some plan; 
By which I might regain the van; 
For knew I well I had been led, 
While my poor heart within me iSled. 



I tho't; but banished ev'ry plan. 
And viewed myself a vanquished man. 
I said at last this girl of mine — 
I know she cannot be divine. 



I '11 bide my time till some fair night, 
I'll get my chance this girl to slight; 
111 ask some night to see her home; 
And then I'll let her go to — Rome. 



I tried and tried that girl to meet 
And vengeance gain by my deceit. 
The dear girl dogged me ev'ry time 
And stayed too close to new Sam Slime. 



243 

(16) 



•■-■>i^^v^fSV?^'giSS?'i!p^^ 



When passed I them the}^ seemed to wink; 
Which made me more than bitter think, 
Of some new plan to them divide; 
And set my rival aye aside. 



She had some wealth, and I supposed 
That Sam would have this all enclosed, 
By fence and guard onev'ry side, 
By making May his own sweet bride. 



At length I learned that Sam had left 
Our lovely May so sore bereft: — 
He was not in the least to blame; 
For far and wide had gone his fame, 



Among the men who safely lodge 
The youth who vain the law would dodge. 
While now he looks at ween his bars, 
/still may gaze at twinkling stars. 



He was not for a moment blamed; 
Because his past had numbered, named 
Poor Sam among the men-of -stripe — 
Poor Sam who once my May did swipe. 



244 



At first it w^s a shock to me; 
And then I laughed in fiendish glee, 
Till my poor May came 'fore my mind: 
And then my tears their way did find. 



I once met May by her own gate, 
One night when I came home quite late; 
She was alone and gave me chance 
To make at least one slisrht advance. 



I tho't; my May I'll let you be; 
For I tO:day am once more free. 
Our looks were all we did exchange 
No force on earth can now arrano^e. 



The "boys" now often say of me; 
"I wonder why our Will is free: 
He has his hair always in curl; 
I wonder Billhas found no girl. 



245 



There are so many round about, 
I think we could pick him one out; 
We never see Bill on the street, 
When he seems out his girl to greet. 



I love the maidens one and all; 
But ne'er again I'll feel so small, 
As when I entered Lover's School; 
And left not quite so great a fool. 



246 



Xove Ibatb Xoet its Cbarme for flDe» 



I wander, wander all the day alone, 
As sad as sovereign whom subjects dethrone; 
And free to flee, from fireside friend so dear 
To seek such shield as soverign far or near, 
May give in pity banished brother late 
Potentate who pushed his bound to that gate, 



Now opened far enough to admit one. 
Who all his life as conquerer had done 
His utmost take by force the very land 
To which a beggar he now came with hand 
Of hapless, hopeless, helpless, harrassed men. 
Who long had borne fatigue in moor and fen. 



Just such a man I am the long, long day, 
vSince Nellie sweet has ceased to me be gay. 
I take long walks with rod and gun to find 
Some solace sweet to my aye darkened mind — 
I find none whereso'er I now may roam, 
Tho' millions bend to waters splash and foam. 



247 



The fish may bite but I forget them now; 

And see on water's bosom one fair brow, 

Like hanging cloud that covers mountain high- 

Beneath I see the eyes of blue, and sigh; 

Because I know it is a phantom wild, 

And not my own, my sweet, my Nellie mild. 



The boys all sit and jeer at me and my lost love, 
And say: "Ah, where is that Nellie dove." 
I know too well she's false as false can be; 
And hope I shall no more my Nellie see. 
Ah! yet long years agone I loved her so; 
But now thro' all this world alone I go. 



248 



Me Moet) to Mcb Ibie ®wu mite. 



I walked, I talked, and roamed on stream; 

And lived each day in heaven's gleam. 
I was the envy of my race, 

Had wealth enough to keep apace. 



My wealth in Funds did not decrease: 

And naught but England could release. 

My college days had ended well, 

My health seemed held by magic spell. 



My friends, were all so young and gay, 
Aye kept my home as fair as May; 

And yet my days were dark as night; ' 
For in my soul was fading light. 



So slow, so sure, my sight did fade; 

And sad I moved on stream, in glade, 
My father tried the finest skill: 

But all was vain except his ivilL 



249 



My father died, and I was left 
A.lone, of parents both bereft: 

Our nurse alone stood by my side, 

Or weal, or woe or Fortune's tide. 



Her earnings long placed in the bank : 

She had her home with none to thank. 

Her love to me did ever burn; 

And now to me she did return. 



The days, the weeks, the months, dragged past: 
I knew my home, and yard at last, 

But Poll}^ kept me aye in view; 
And dear to her I ever grew. 



One night while fast asleep she lay, 
I stole with latch-key out, away. 

I walked quite fast with my new find: 
I was alone! what joy of mind! 



How far I walked, I cannot tell; 

The balmy air did please me well. 
I heard the Minster clock, twelve, strike, 

While runo' a bell on distant bike. 



250 



At length a man came in my way — 

When shock was o 'er all flat he lay 

While /fell out upon the street, 

As fast his words my ear did greet. 



"My Friend," I said, "I am stone blind: 
And never meant to be unkind; 

I must in haste, my home regain: 

Or nurse, I fear, will feel much pain." 



He made reply, "You see I'm drunk: 
But I'll lead you to your own bunk. 

What is your street and number tell? 
I'll see you there all safe and well. 



Of course when blind will lead the blind, 
They both the ditch may often find. 

But then, old pal, lock arms with me; 
And, to your home, I will you see:" 



At last he said, "This is the spot — 

Our meeting ne'er shall be forgot, " 

I heard him leave with drunken pace: 

Then turned my key in 'customed place. 



251 



Spell-bound I stood within that luUl, 
While music came like heaven s call. 

Two parties parted seemed to be, 

In rooms apart — how could I liee? 



The song my soul did soon possess, 
While stood I there all motionless. 

Just then stern words across did come, 
"/ want nnj money, will have soine.^' 



A fall, a thud upon the Hoor 

I forward rushed thro' open door. 
And heard a shriek, a cry of pain, 

Prom her whose voice I did retain. 



I stumbled on a prostrate form: 

And heard foul words — a curse'd storm. 
My hands dipped in the horrid blood, 

While swarmed the curses like a tlood. 



I felt a hand upon my throat, 

While rocked the room like storm- tossed boat. 
I cried, "I'm blind, Oh, let me live; 

And my mistake to-night forgive. 



252 



I tho't my key unlocked my door; 

Shed not my blood upon thy floor. 
Alas! my life was sweet to me, 

Tho' long wish I all dead to be. 



I felt a circle on mj brow — 

I shudder as I feel it now. 
"Don't shoot," I heard some one then say; 

"One crime's enough for this curst day. 



So slow the pistol was disj^laced; 

And would-be murderer seemed faced 
About with scowling, seething hate, 

While said, "To-morrow will be late. 



I know the dead can tell no tale 

Let's kill and hide in yonder vale. " 

The first to speak bro't near a light; 

Then said, "His day is endle.ss night. 



He is as blind as any stone: 

I will not for his life atone:*' 

And then he turned and said to me: 
You nothing know; you cannot see. 



253 



Fear not; we will not take your life: 

Just breathe this deep and cease all strife. 

A drowsy feeling to me came; 
And I forgot my very name. 



When next I knew my nurse was by; 

And to my ques'ning made reply: 
"When bro't home here your sleeves were torn 

You were the saddest, most forlorn. 



Your hands and arms, in mud were dipt, 
As if from walk to ditch, you slipt. " 

' 'Who brought you? This I never knew 
So quick the carriage closed withdrew 



I told my friends of what had past — 

They laughed in scorn from first to last. 

I pleaded to investigate 

They said, "Claude, you were drunk not late.'' 



At length all heaven came to be; 

For skill restored my sight to me. 
The doctor warned, "Your glasses keep; 

And never read at night; but sleep. " 



254 



I traveled with one friend, alone, 
All anxious for lost time atone. 

I went to Italy's far strand, 

Where men are freed by their own hand. 

While there, I saw two on the street: 
I would my all for them to meet. 

The one was old, some bent, and gray; 
The other's life was scarcely May. 



The one so young, so fair, so pure, 

Would heaven's self for aye allure. 

I told my friend such beauty true. 

Was rarely met 'neath yon bent blue. 



He said, "Her beauty is quite strange 
And not within my humble range 

Those women both are queer to me: 
I cannot much in either see. ' ' 



/could the one to me was all; 

How could I find and on her call? 
I saw at church near altar- place; 

And soon met them all face to face. 



255 



I did my best to Imitate — 

Would cheat my God, O vile ingrate; 
And yet a man will Christian be, 

That he his worshipped may just see. 



At length they vanished from mj sight: 
Then came to me my dreaded night. 

Returned I all dark and drear 

I found Old England once so dear. 



I met one da,j upon the street 

That one I longed so much to greet. 
The woman old had her in care. 

As daj^s agone they used to fare. 



Kot seen by them, I followed far; 

And saw them enter the Lone Star. 
I bribed the landlord and soon knew 

The room overlooks Saint James' Park View 



The woman, old, was paid to care; 

And see the young should aye well fare. 
I bribed her well to let me walk, 

With her sweet charge that I might talk. 



256 



The maid would make me brief reply : 
But all my love she would defy. 

I spoke to her of Shakespeare's book. 
She answered by a staring look! 



I made no progress in my love : 

My cage was sure — not so my dove. 

My bribes did multiply apace: 

My heaven was to see her face. 



The other woman fixed the date: 

Some friends came to our marriage, late. 
My bribes profuse — we travel far, 

With charmed words, "A private car.*' 



We traveled for sweet' Scotland north, 
When I my love to her poured forth. 

With bended knee, I pleaded mild. 
For her not to act so like a cMlcl. 



I begged her listen to my love, 
If she believed in God above. 

I stood aghast, for then I knew 
I had a woman, mad in view. 

257 



That woman, too, was my* sweet wife— 
To me far more than heaven's life. 

I soon returned from Scottish shore; 
My hfe more bitter than of yore. 



I failed to find the woman, old, 

Who sold my life for greedy gold. 

Who was this woman I had wed? 

That one who knew, alas! had fled. 



At length a man, Magenta named, 
Who was afar, but badly famed. 

Came to our home, and said he knew 
About my wife, facts, not a few. 



He spoke ill of my darling wife, 

Which roused in me a murd'rous strife. 
I would have slain him at the time; 

But was debarred this awful crime; 



Because my wife seemed in him charmed, 
By him alone could be alarmed. 

I kept my angry feelings back — 

My home to him did nothing lack. 



258 



He wished a place that I could give; 

Till then near me I had him live, 
So oft he dined with wife and me; 

Then naught but Mm she could aye see. 



She watched his hand, his face, his form; 

Yet shrank from him like leaf in storm. 
Itho't ''This gir] not yet my wife 

May gain her-mind thro' mental strife." 



One day' he told of bloody strife, 
When Italy fought to win life. 

He raised his hand with dagger bright; 
And struck the table with his might. 



My girl- wife, panic-stricken falls, 
As he this bloody deed recalls. 

For days she lay in awful pain; 

And then Magenta left for Spain. 



As days dragged on, she better grew; 

And Italy I kept in view ; 
For there my girl-wafe had her birth, 

A land all glory now begirth. 



259 

(17) 



Magenta said her uncle's home, 

Was not far distant from Old Rome. 

A doctor, Cirillo, by name, 

A man of naught but village fame. 



I sought the land, once Pauline's home. 

And found that place, not far from Rome, 

Where Cirillo was said to live — 

No news of him could any give. 



A doctor had been in that land, 

All sent adrift with lawless band. 
Was banished by a Northern state; 
, And sent to penal mines just late. 



I sought the Czar, as kind and true, 
As ever known beneath yon blue; 

He passport kindly gave to me: 

And. said, "May heaven go with thee." 



Cirillo found in a filthy cell, 

So dim, so dark, so much like hell; 
He answered quickly to that name, 

He bore, while fought for honest fame. 



26a 



My passport, and the force of gold, 

Gave him an hour from cell so cold. 

When wine released his tongue for him, 
He spoke as free as seraphim. 



He said, "My niece; and now your wife. 
Was born at Parma in the strife, 

Whose throes her land made once more f ree- 
Her father slain, left her to me. 



Her mother died within a year 

Her last words, 'Fight and do not fear 
For Guidi or Pauline, so sweet — 

A coward ne'er can heaven greet.' 



I used the wealth just as I thought 

My sister would have freedom bought. 

Our plots and schemes brought us disgrace; 
We had to seek a safer place. 



We took with us Ifagenta wild. 

Who worshiped Pauline, tho' a child. 

She had for him a loathing dread; 

And oft /wished that he was dead. 



261 



He had fought well in that dear land, 
Since governed ^y a savage band. 

But Guidi ne'er disguised his hate — 
A fight must come or soon or late. 



Young Guidi would for money ask — 
He ne'er a moment wore a mask: 

We dared not tell him we had spent 

It all in cause where rainbow bent; 



Because he was too young too care 
How ill or well his country fare. 

That night — you know the dreaded place, 
Where first I met yoit face to face — 



He slew young Guidi in his hate; 

(And since I am at hell's owm gate). 
Sweet Pauline shrieked — her mind gave way: 

But London soon become quite gay. 



A doctor certitied disease — 

For money, have just what you please- 
We took him in the light of day; 

To native land where still he lay. 



2i)2 



I quick returned to find my wife, 

Secure and free from mental strife: 

Her mind was calm as on that day, 

She lost her brother, brave and gay. 



I stood behind some willows green, 
Where I was hid by leafy screen, 

From her, my wife, but just in part, 

How should I win — by what strange art? 



How should I woo to win my wife? 

Was ever man in such a strife? 
I watched her bosom rise and fall: 

How much I longed her name to call! 



How long I stood I cannot tell, 

Just held by Love's majestic spell. 

How could I ask her how she fare? 
How could I now my love declare? 



Her cheeks did rival blossoms gay, 

We see in orchards, month of May; 

Her lips were ruby as the rose; 

Her eyes, deep blue, yon sky oppose. 



263 



Her mien did bear a sweet repose— 

A something none would dare oppose. 

Her ear like coral from the strand; 

A white, and shapely jewelled hand. 



I gazed enrapt upon the sight, 

My being filled with all delight. 

When sudden she from bosom drew 
A ring, and held it full in view. 



The ring was one that I had bought; 

And placed on hand that I had sought 
In marriage, all so long in vain — 

The hand, but not the heart did gain. 



She murmured low, tho' I could hear; 

"They say he loves me, calls me dear; 
Good Polly tells me of his love; 

I shall be true as Noah's dove." 



Some years have gone' and children three. 
Have filled our home so full of glee, 

We often doubt, as horrid dream 

The shadow changed for heaven's gleam. 



264 



IReacuet)* 

Mr. J. J. Vermillion, of Oswej^o.Kan., rescued Miss Elsie 
Porter from drowning?, as the result of a. boat capsizeon the 
Labette, east of the bridge, in April, 1900. 

It was the time when roses bioorn, 

And birds bear highest on the wing; 

And lillies whiter than the snow 
Upon the waters glory fling. 



It was the time whea perfume fills 
The air as blows the highest tree; 

Or lowest flower beside the rills; 

Or hawthorn bear so full and free. 



It was the time when winter's chain 

L»et loose her hold on stream and glen, 

And Death was driven over main, 

And Hope renewed its hold on men. 

It was the time when Fancy's gleam, 

Was shot athwart the young man's mind; 

And sent his barque adrift on stream. 
In search of one he would aye bind. 



265 



He would enchain two hearts in one; 

He would for aye enfold two lives; 
He would her wed and let be done 

His hope, his joy, his life, he gives. 



It was the time when maidens blush, 
As list they to the sweetest noise, 

Which comes to all in that deep hush, 

When Love makes two in each rejoice. 



It was the time when flowers clasp 
And each enfold the other's form 

As love doth teach them each to grasp 

And strengthen each against the storm. 



So Jim with Elsie left the throng 

To take a boat ride on the stream : 

He plied with might as do the strong; 

And swift they pass thro' sunny gleam. 



2G6 



With oar applied the boat did glide, 

Till treach'rous snag the boat did find: 

And then so soon did end the ride, 

As if the boat had changed her mind. 



The boat was struck in full broadside, 
And on she dashed all tipt to lea; 

So Elsie ended here her ride, 

Was buried deep as if in sea. 



Now Jim did bound to waters wide; 

For Elsie's hand outstretched for aid, 
Did Hero's will at once decide 

And save he must this lovely maid. 



He siezed her in his manly grasp: 

And bent at once to reach the shore; 

But soon her arm around him clasp. 
And sank they deeper than before. 



26': 



You know how tight a vice will press, 
So tight did she his form embrace. 

As thrice they sank his strength grew less; 
Yet to tlie shore he turns his face. 



Each time he rose her death-like face 
Inspired him to his task anew; 

And lashed his lagging strength apace, 
Till stronger yet his efforts grew 



She hampered ey'ry move he made 

By strength beyond all human might 

Which comes to all when life's light fade, 

Then opes the door of Death's cold night. 



To those to whom w^aber- wraith doth find 
To trespass on his wide domain, 

He says to come you have been kind 
And now with me you'll aye remain. 



But still our Jim the shore did reach, 

Tho' tho't he that his charge was dead; 

By this he doth a lesson teach- 
Thro' life or death no duty dread. 



2GS 



Her eyes were set as still as death; 

And Jim so dead he could but stare 
On her who seemed to draw his breath, 

On whom he had bestowed such care. 



It seemed an age before a sigh, 

Drawn long and deep told Jim that Death- 
Departed while Life drew nigh, 

To grant the maid his living breath. 



The moon did shed her softest light, 
Upon their path some after day — 

They came before far spent the night, 
And went away so happy, gay. 



They came to me to be made one — 
Right glad was I that this could be 

I said the will of God be done; 

They went away all-bound, yet free. 



269 



Poems of Conscience, 

« « « 

A Voice comes over lea to me, 
The Voice of one I never see; 

I hear when bursts the morning light; 
I hear in densest, darkest ni^'ht. 



What is the Voice I hear so well, 

That holds me b}^ its magic spell? 

Who is this one I never saw, 

Less chano'eless than the Medes' law? 



Is He that friend who fails at last? 

Is he my foe who hates my past? 
Is he the myth that lives afar? 

Is He mere chance to cross life's bar? 



This Voice to me the truth doth show, 
And changeless all I find I grow. 

When list I to its mandate true, 
No future can I ever rue. 



270 



Nor tiiiie nor tide its truth can stay — 
Its in my heart not far away; 

It shows to saint and sinner right, 

And holds for each the same pure light. 



It visits cell and palace hall; 

And speaks to him we martyr call. 
It holds Mm firm upon the I'ack, 

So even he no couraare lacks. 



I err when thee I will not hear, 

Thus set at naught the God I fear; 

I sink by "sin's seductive art," 
To act a coward's coward part* 



I know you show the same to me 

YoQ show to kings tho' great they be: 

You lead me all to heaven's gate; 
You come to all and never late. 



271 



Despair, so dark, so dismal, double-dread; 

You bitter, biting, blasting, cowTing thing; 

You stealthy, sneaky, snaky, slimy bring 

Your headsman who leaves our hopes cold and 
dead. 

All rudderless, helmless, slimy you slide, 

With captain as black as curse of old Spain, 
All light and life and love you will disdain 

On horse as black as double night you ride. 



You tremble and j^ou shake as you enter home, 
A place you drop and drape so deep that Hope, 
On lightsome wing ne'er sink with you to cope; 

A place more black than days of darkest Rome. 



Despair, you child of grimy blackest night, 

You come to us from land where day is dark: 
No hope, no life, no light, no joy, no spark; 

No moon, no sun, no star is there for light. 



21-1 



®&e to Conacience, 

voice, within you speak to me 
In day or night or fpul or fair 

1 know my path when led by thee. 
Am kept as pure as Eden's pair, 
Before they left that Garden old 
To stray alone without the fold, 

Where God had loved them more than life. 

O Voice so strong, so stern, ye never sanction strife. 



O Voice, there are who never know 

The why, the when, the how, the where; 

But peace from thee doth ever tiow 

Tho' fierce the foe, for thou art there. 

O Voice, some will thy mandate heed, 

To face each foe with awful speed; 

O Voice, thou dost all voices hush — 

80 slow, so silent all our lowly passions crush. 



O Voice, that once our Lincoln led. 

When fought our foe on sea and plain; 

O Voice, from which each foe hath fled. 

You did with Garfield aye remain; 

O voice that Grant did ever give 

The power to prove our right to live; 

O Voice, we hear so stern and still. 

You come to us at home, abroad, by dale and hill. 



273 



(Built. 

Guilt brazen stood before the throne, 
All stolid met the charge of crime; 
And dauntless said, "I'll not atone" 
For guilt is slight— this sin of mine, 
Is but a strife in this great land, 
Where weal or woe alternate sway; 
And Vengeance doth his brother slay — 
In days now passed I lacked a chance 
Of training to Truth by which men must aye ad- 
vance." 



While spake the criminal so bold, 

The judge looked down upon the throng 

That leaned to listen from that fold. 

Secure and peaceful for Right is strong — 

He saw^ their faces sterner grow. 

As Guilt assumed so bold a brow. 

He saw the pity they had shown, 

Gone sure as bird from last years nest had flown, 



He looked at Guilt so straight and still 
That darker grew the cloud on brow. 
Of him who faced with stubborn w411 
The cloud of doubt that hailed him now. 



274 



At length bold Guilt gave place to Shame; 
And seemed to lose the power to name 
The words that would his meaning show, 
So silent stood while eyes fell to sea,rch floor be- 
low. 



At length the judge in accents mild 

Inquired, "Can'st thou good reason give 

Why sentence 'gainst thy life so wild, 

Should not be passed with life ye live?" 

Guilt dropt one tear as painful thought, 

Filled him with years that crime had bought, 

To dwell in cell remote from friend — 

Remote from all except remorse till life should end. 



At length he lifts his head to say 

'T might say much but 'tis no use: 

I know my jury's packed to-day, 

And so subject me to abuse; 

Tho' innocent I am alway; 

And will with Virtue ever stay — 

But still from you I glean no hope; 

And with a jury packed no man can ever cope.'' 



275 
(18) 



So then just judge declares that Guilt, 
Should banished be for all this life, 
Where blood could not in rife be spilt: 
And where the vile gain naught by strife. 
And here may Guilt his conscience scan^ 
While time builds bridge for man to span 
The tide of hate and woe and wrong, 
That bears this bark of bitter life so swift along. 



So Guilt withdraws tO'where no ray 

Of light can find its way to him 

No friend befriend, no foe display 

His joy, or satisfaction grim; 

As conscience speaks like thunder loud 

Tells us that lightning's bolt has found 

A place to lodge its awful force — 

So crime in us its awful traces leave perforce. 



276 



Ilnnocence^ 

Now Innocence a girdle wears 
Which Guilt himself all helpless bears; 
For Guilt can see and know and feel 
That Right guards Innocence with steel. 



And Innocence all day is gay — 
To Innocence each month is May, 
With bad and flower and promised fruit 
All nature dressed in varied suit. 



With Innocence each rill bears hope, 
Someday ere long with ocean cope 
With sky's great blue above, below; 
It will far more of heaven show. 



Long, Innocence with* Hope held sway, 
In maiden's mind as pure as ray 
Of light from heaven in the morn 
All nature is new to glory born. 



;77 



But Guilt crossed threshold of the mind, 
Of her the purest of her kind; 
And soon sin-soiled she drifted died 
Tho' Guilt lived on and Hope defied. 



A pilii:rim plucked from tree a rose, 
And placed on breast in sweet repose; 
Which gladdened eye of all he met, 
As gazed they on this lioweret. 



In luckless havoc the llower fell. 
Away from dale away from dell; 
And soon was crushed beneath the feet. 
In dim and dingy selfish street. 



Oh sweet the perfume that it cast; 
And filled the air for men vv^io past 
In haste along the beaten track; 
And soon in tho't they travel back 



278 



To days of childhood's glad, glad glee, 
When they at night would bend the knee, 
By mothers mild to Mother's God — 
Ah long since then she's laid in sod. 



So Innocence in face of death, 
Breathes forth her purest, sweetest breath; 
But when she's crushed beneath the heel, 
For Vengeance calls the cruel steel. 



When Christ was crucified and crushed, 
All earth and sky and sea were hushed. 
By awe divine which held them back. 
While men jeered him upon the rack. 



But God loves on in spite of fate. 
And Jesus cries, ''No vengeance take:" 
For I from sin these men must save, 
Tho' demons deep revile and rave. 



279 



Religious Poems. 



««« 



Zbc 6burcb 36cbin&* 

The Church has found a rut so deep, 
E'en Calvary is not so steep. 

Her style is stale, so staid and still, 
She lacks the living water's rill. 



Oh, for a Christ with style as new. 
As when He spoke to just a few 

His blessings on the human race — 
No notes to hide his noble face. 



He never said, "Sit still and hear," 
But, "Go ye out in holy fear: 

Go speak in lanes of God above; 

Go tell the world that 'God is love, 



He says to-day, "Don't speak in whine 
But go give men the gospel wine." 

He used the bird in air, on wing- 
To teach the care of heaven's King. 



280 



He took the lily in his hand, 

To banish care from ev'ry land; 

He took the child upon his knee 
As if to say, "Look up to Me." 



He set aside each foolish style: 

And greeted men with holy smile. 

He said, "I'm here to bless each race, 

To look the world strai't in the face." 



O babe in Christ, that prayer drop 

Its old and stale — you'd better stop; 

And sound us something new to-day 

Your prayer like you is old and gray. 



Why not transform like Him above. 
Till all you do is done in love? 

Why not shake off the foolish past; 
And live in love until the last? 



281 



For me the earth turns to the sun; 
For me each day is new begun; 
For me the cloud its rainbow bends; 
For me the rose its fragrance lends; 
For me the bird in air, in tree, 
Pours forth its sweetest melody. 



To me the Book itself doth say 

That God is love and love alway. 

If God is love what doth he love? 

We love that far so far above 

Our nature, moods and changeful mind. 

Will seek and seek until we iind 

Our better, higher, nobler self, 



Which ne'er we'll leave for praise or pelf 
When found we give our ail to be 
Theirs now and in eternitj^. 
But God no equal e'er has known 
And higher than he is not shown. 
If God is love then He must give 
Himself to those who worthy live. 
And such he found in His own son, 
When time and tide had not begun. 
The Son he loved for he would be 
All love through all eternity. 

•TQO 



Now God. and Son loved each full well 
But called the Third with them to dwell, 
Their love to this they did express, 
Yet loved each other none the less 
As parents love thair first born son. 
Yet love each as when they begun 
Their life of hope, of joy, of love. 
Which comes from Him who loves above. 



These Three are one in purpose true; 
These Three are one in every view, 
They take of man in helpless state — 
God loves the Son yet man's sad fate 
Calls forth the Son and Spirit too 
To warn him, make him ever true 
These Three in one will ever be 
Our shield through all eternity. 



Zbc Son of (5o^♦ 



O Son of God tlion art divine 

Who came to eartli without a name 
Thus left behind your gloried fame; 

O Savior sweet I know" thee mine. 



O Son of God ye seek to save 

The hopeless, hapless, helpless world, 
For which we have thy flag unfurled 

To bear it o'er the ocean wave, 



Where men will die in hoary age, 

And yet not know that they can find 
A Savior true to all mankind — 

Thus spend their force in foolish rage, 



'Gainst friend or foe so fierce aud wild; 
They fight, they falter but to fall. 
To rise no more and answer call 

Of wife, of mother or of child. 



284 



O Savior sweet ye sinners seek, 

Tho' lost and loveless, early, late 
Ye carry cross, regard not hate 

Of those who scorn their Savior meek. 



O Savior, Sun, my soul's pure star, 
Teach me to love the sinners all, 
Who fail to find or on thee call — 

Teach me to bring them thee from far 



Teach me to live a holy life, 

Before the world for whom He died, 
We call to-day the Crucified: 

Show me how shun all senseless strife. 



Show each the life he is to live: 

Each day, each hour as moments fly, 
Give us sweet words to make reply 

To him who ne'er will us forgive. 



285 



Zhc Stingy Saint at Service. 



He passed adown the longdrawn aisle, 
His face alit with holy smile; 

He bowed in prayer, ' 'Christ my King 
To you my soul, my all I bring. " 



The organ piped in praise to God — 

These words, "O soul pass under rod; 

Your soul is mine and all you be, 

Express my image made in thee. " 

The preacher preached his father's death; 

Told what he said with his last breath; 
The tears streamed down the saint's fair face 

He was a "sinner sav^ed by grace." 



But then the speaker quicldy changed; 

And said some people had arranged, 
Aid Galveston in sore distress — 

Sure Christ would love them none the less. 



286 



The sun, the storm, the sea's sad might, 
Had ushered in that awful night, 

Which comes to port town now, and then, 
To prove what's in our Christain men. 

The light all fades from that fair face, 

That long looked up with heaven's grace; 

This man of peace on war seemed bent, 
Tho' Christ to him his all had lent. 



He tho't, "My all I do insure; 

And if I lose I shall endure: 
So let the people who have lost, 

Rebuild their towm at their 0"wn cost. 



My money will not raise their dead, 

Which now they sink like heavy lead: 

They ought to know^ those treach'rous waves, 
That now do hide so many graves. 



A brother meek for help, soon asked, 

Which showed this sainted sinner masked; 

For all the hate that hell doth know-, 
Did in his face a moment show^ 



287 



His children drifted into shame : 

And tarnished well a father's name, 

How could they care for father's church, 
When he aye left the poor in lurch? 



His sons untrained went to the bad; 

His daughters homes to wed were glad — 
Not used to love at home they knew 

No home could worse now meet their view. 



One daughter sues soon for divorce; 

That state doth keep one son perforce; 
And so his hell began below, 

To him who would not better grow. 



His ashes lie in grave at last, 

And boys now point as they go past; 
Because no stone doth bear his name, 

Who lived for self in sin and shame. 



How many will the Christ receive; 

Because He doth from hell relieve: 
And yet His words 'tis far more blest, 

To give than gain is His own test. 



288 



Mbat part of (Bo& Hm IF? 



You say that God fills this great universe, 

And all its laws at pleasure may reverse; 

You say He's here and there and everywhere 

My mind doth know the now, the then, the there; 

And I. at will can all the laws reverse, 

And can to earth bring lightning's universe. 

I chain the either in the distant cloud; 

And speed the tireless carriage o'er the ground. 

I speak to men with oceans wide between, 

On lightning's wing I pass thro' forests green. 

With lightning checked I slow down mountain side; 

With thunder hushed and lightning dimmed I ride. 

You say that God who rules above is life; 
But I myself have life and feel its strife. 
God is life which I have, hence I liave God; 
And hence within me feel the needed rod, 
Am I with life a part of God or all; 
If none of God then what this life so small? 



289 



If all of God then whence this sin not his? 
If none of God then whence so much of bliss? 
Now God all things from nothing doth create; 
And I from naught do make most sinful hate. 
And God is just and true and right and pure; 
And Justice, Right and Truth, within, allure. 



If I am God why fight I Him so long? 

If not God then from whence this peaceful song. 

That fills and thrills my soul by day, by night? 

If not God then whence this heavenly light? 

If no part of God, how then can I know 

So much of heaven, sweet on earth below? 



If God is mine, w^hy love I not my own? 
If God is mine, why is not sin o'erthrown? 
If God is not mine, then why do I live? 
If God is not mine, how do I forgive? 
If to God lam subject here and now, 
Why see I not the crown upon his brow? 

If God is all in hell and earth and sky, 
A part I am and must on him rely. 
If God is just and can no mercy show, 
I seek to save myself in death below. 
If God is all and I am a part of Him, 
Will he e'er banish as base Seraphim? 



290 



Mbat Qvocet Zbon 3ceml 



"What dost thou owe to Jesus now? 

To Jesus with His thorned-crowned brow? 
Hast thou to Him His interest brought? 

Hast thou of Him his pardon sought? 



Ref. Why not thy debt to Jesus pay? 

Why not to Him for pardon pray? 
Why not pay Him who hath thee bought. 
By blood and tears that Calvary wro't? 



What owest thou not to Jesus, Friend? 

What doth he not to mortals lend? 
His grace flows free for you and me 

Have ive done ought to others free? 



291 

(19) 



Is aught on earth thou owest not, 
To Him who never yet forgot 

Thy life, thy hopes, thy joys to fill. 
As free as flows the silv'ry rill. 



Then pay thy debt to Jesus now, 

While bends for thee the mercy bow 

Pray Him before it is too late, 

For thee to enter heaven's gate. 



292 



Hebamet) of Seeue. 

Ashamed of Jgksus, that dear friend, 
Who doth to me his glory lend? 
Ashamed of Jesus who bends the bow, 
That doth to me His mercy show? 



Ashamed of Jesus, whose glories find 
No throne on earth except my mind? 
Is firefly flashing in the night, 
Ashamed of heaven's purest light? 



Ashamed of him who gave me breath? 
Ashamed of Him who suffered death? 
Ashamed of him whom angels greet; 
By falling prostrate at His feet? 



293 



irin Circ^. 



My God, I'm tired of sinning so: 
Each day I think to you I'll go; 
But day by day I farther grow, 
As streams will onward wider How. 



God, my sins do curse my life; 

1 live in hated, heated strife, 
With all that's better in myself: 

I press for power, praise or pelf. 



My God if thou but leave alone. 
My life can never reach Thy throne. 
My God, since thou all faithful art, 
I may some day from sin depart. 



2i)4 



I'm tired of ''sin's seductive art;" 
I'm tired of my own coward part; 
I'm tired of sin's attractive form; 
I'm tired of life's besieging storm. 

My life is all but ghastly grim; 
My hopes now center all in Him, 
Whose promise I have long defied, 
Whose Life I've crossed thus Crucified, 



295 



®ur IRobUiti?. 



Nobility doth not consist in Mood, 

Tho' this he traced beyond the flood. 

It doth not come from long descent; 

But is in him whose life 's well spent. 



It does not go with greed or gain; 

But with the meek will aye remain: 
It doth not vanish from the poor, 

Tho' he may dwell on desert moor. 



It may be found in mighty hall, 

By one whom God, himself, doth call. 
It doth exist in ev 'ry mind. 

Aye filled with tho't that God is kind. 



It may be found in smallest child, 

And was well known to heathen wild; 

Or Plato days long since gone by, 
When to his God he made reply. 



296 



It may in ev'ry act be found 

Of him who climbs just round by round 
To reach a place beside his God, 

As true as daisies in the sod. 



The man whose life doth lift him nigh, 
To Him we know as the Most High, 

Is noble in each deed of life; 

And lives beyond all petty strife. 



The man whose hopes are centered near 
That Being whom we all may hear, 

Each day, each hour to guide our thought, 
Is far too noble to be bought. 



My boy, my girl, just nohle be; 

And then your God you aye will see, 
And hear him whisper, "Son, well done, 

You are to Me as my Just One." 



297 



Zvoo Morl&0. 



They are so close — just side by side, 
So that in both we aye do ride; 

Because each boundless is you see, 
And so in each I aye must be. 



That other world itself doth thrust 
Far into this; and hence, I must 

Reflect the light from yonder shore, 
As Moses did in days of yore. 



A boundless world must fill all space, 
And hence with God I'm face to face. 

These worlds do fringe and intertwine; 
And all in each is alhdivine. 



298 



We know they 're made by one great Mind, 
Who to himself doth each well bind. 

We know that that is land of love, 
As Moses found on Mount above. 

We know these worlds are bound to throne 

Of Him who doth for all atone; 
As shown to us by rainbow bent, 

Whose promise these two worlds have blent. 



299 



H 'm^eb^^o^ffie. 



I used to go each week to church: 

But now have left them in the lurch. 

In days agone when I was east, 

The meetin's used to be a feast. 



Oh well, there's no thm' in it Jack; 

The Church on you will turn her back: 
If you can't show the money out, 

You'll see she'll soon put you to rout. 



"It may be but I don't believe. 

The church of Christ will e'er deceive; 
I left her of my own bad will — 

And yet Old Church I love you still;" 



300 



"I know for years you've had bad luck, 
Tho' never you have lacked for pluck. 

Why not hang out just like a man; 

Keep on and do the best you can ? ' ' 



" "The luck I've lost, is faith in God; 

My pluck has brought down God's own rod; 
My grain was lost thro' lashing hail, 

Which worked as clean as any flail. 



My horses now are on the stray; 

My child God gave He took away. 
I will to Him who gave me breath; 

And stay with Him till day of death. " 



301 



Small people* 

They have at times been Christains called, 
Altho' our God this name recalled; 
Because they did not hear His call: 
"Go out and lift whoever fall." 



They drive a chaise, so very small: 
But large enough for one and all. 
Of those "Our own; who chance to be, 
At home just now; ah! don't you see!' 



Of course papa would rather walk — 
'Tis just as well because his talk, 
Is far behind the present date — 
His grammar came to him too late. 

They wear the latest style of dress; 
And, as for good, are motionless. 
They feel the keenest kind of pain; 
Because the old with them remain. 



302 



They go to church, but never see 
The stranger, unless rich he be, 
Now lie to them is never strange; 
And hence, for visit they arrange. 

They hunt for days that they may kill, 
But seek no souls God's house to fill. 
They ask their own at Christmas time; 
But place for Christ would be a crime. 



Such people never know a death, 
Altho' will cease their latest breath. 
Their souls contract too small for space; 
But ne'er can rise to see God's face. 



303 



He came a stranger to the place; 
And early sought to find God's grace. 
In church near by — across the street, 
"Where he did hope some friend to meet. 



He passed adown the long-drawn aisle; 
His face alit with holy smile, 
Which died the instant that he saw 
He was in place of social law. 



The ]Dlace ne'er knew a smile before, 
And never will for ever more; 
Because the air was chilled with breath, 
Of him we know as horrid Death. 



''Ihe church was still as lists the thief, 
In dead of night to fix belief, 
That victim sound is wrapt in sleep; 
So he secure may harvest reap. 



304 



At length the chon^ in cheerless strain, 
Pealed forth its solemn, slow refrain; 
And then the preacher's part began — 
He preached divinely like a man. 



At last the farce came to an end — 
The stranger had not fcmnd a friend 
In word, or tho't, or deed, or look; 
And so his way he backward took. 



He tho't, "The Friend of sinners died; 

And for mankind was crucified. 

I wonder when He ever saw 

This church of strinorest social law.' ' 



305 



SiObte& in Ibeavctu 



There was a mist around the throne, 

Which veiled from view two men alone, 

Who had just passed thro' heaven's gate 
And were each looking for a mate. 



At length each started in surprise, 
As each the other did surmise. 

They looked athwart and looked askance; 
And then to each they did advance. 



That one much taller than his mate 

Said, "When did you reach heaven's gate?" 
"I think it was three nights passed by," 

The other did him make reply. 



"I know the way was awful dark; 

And light — there was no ray or spark." 
And then a silence long and deep, 

Came on like Moses' hidden sleep, 



306 



At length the silence broke once more: 

"Where held you forth on yonder shore? 

"I am from Kansas firm and sure, 

Where naught but heaven can allure." 



"From Kansas? Why man that's my state 
I made one bound to heaven's gate. 

What part of Kansas, may I ask — 

We'll each find each an easy task," 



"In Kansas City on the line, 

Why man this seems to be divine; 

For / lived on Fifth and Seventh; 
And you were on the Eleventh!" 



"Yes; and I went on Sunday night 
To that church just out of sight." 

Just here each clasped each by the hand; 
So strong they felt the earthly band. 



"I worshiped there thro' all my life, 

Except when church was torn by strife; 

I sat in gallery on the back; 

Because for money I did lack. 



307 

(20) 



I sat above the pulpit tall — 

The seats were fixed for big and small. " 
The other clasped his hand once more 

"I sat right there in days of Moore." 

"He was the man I liked to hear; 

He threw aside the glittering gear. 
I joined his church when in my prime; 

Fo?/must have joined that very time." 

"I did, but then you know how caste, 
Would oft our lives so useless waste: 

We will be friends in this great worldj 

Where Love, himself, his flag unfurled." 



308 



* 

In northern sky four stars do make 
What each and all each day must take- 
His cross and bear upon his form, 
Or sun, or shade, or snow, or storm. 



Our King did stand one day they tell, 
With arms akimbo and there fell 
A shadow on the distant ground 
Clear-marked — a cross the Christ had found. 



The Christ wss crashed by cruel cross;. 
He loved, he lingered long in loss, 
Too great for us to understand. 
Till see we light in that love-land, 



O cross for ages filled with shame. 
Now emblem pure; eternal fame. 
O cross, a curse to Christ, our King; 
To us you ev'ry blessing bring. 



When time and tide, and tidal wave. 
Shall be forgotten in their grave, 
The cross shall rise in clearer sky; 
And death and hell ,and all defy. 



309 



Zhc Collection* 



O blest collection that doth show 

How little men doth love God below; 

O blest collection that doth give 

The standard by which we do live. 



O sweet collection, tale of woe, 

That shows us friend of God, or foe. 

O sweet collection that doth tell 

How firm we're held by God's own spell. 

O fair collection that doth give 

The widow's mite a right to live: 

O sweet collection that doth serve. 

To show our faith doth still preserve. 



310 



H&t)re99 to tbe B(ble» 



O Book, so blest to ev'ry race, 

Where each his God sees face to face. 
O Book, revered by mother mild, 

Who turned from it to bless her child. 



O Book, revealing one great God, 
Who loves the daisy in the sod 

O Book, that covers ev 'ry age : 
Ay, Holy Writ on ev'ry page. 



O Book, that dips far down the past, 
You are the first and shall be last. 

O Book, that shows the same to me, 

You show to kings, tho' great they be. 



O Book, where Christ with kingly form, 
Is calm amid life's awful storm. 

O Book, whence Christ doth blessings bring. 
To all who find Him the newborn King. 



311 



O Book, our mother's often read, 

While moved her child with softest tread. 
O Book a mirror for myself. 

Which shows my toil and praise for self. 



O Book, thro* which I double see 
Myself and God I tind in thee. 

O Book, you show my face of sin; 
And yet my Christ reveal within. 



Book, the Puritans aye saw, 

Where read the thund'ring Sinai law. 
O Book, that made the mighty States, 

You will decide for aye our fates. 



O Book, aye full of heaven's wealth, 

You hate that life which moves by stealth. 
O Book, that helps us aye to live; 
And shows that God himself doth give. 



312 



®ur IReUflion. 



It doth consist in turkey round, 

Just on our own fair table found 

We just invite our kith and blood, 
To shower blessings like a flood. 



The dinner o'er we sing and play: 

"Go rescue those w?iO die to-day," 

But ne'er we stretch a helping hand, 
To lift the fallen in the land. 



We pay five dollars to the church; 

And leave t?ie preacher in the lurch. 
We go to hunt in God's own wood; 

But ne'er for souls to do them good. 



We do the rich quite oft invite. 

That we some foe may bitter spite. 

We are oft sorry they have come: 

Because they show us they are "some." 



We ne'er ihafacV ry girls do aid; 

But for the r'k:h, we make our raid. 
We give no help to Cuba bold 

Tho' 'seiged by heat or starved in cold. 

.3i:j 



Iftot aionc. 



I wander, wander by the stream; 

I wander ways of woodland wild, 
I watch the heavens all agleam 

A lonely, lonely child. 



I leave the world so far behind; 

I leave my cares behind my back; 
I go so far from all mankind; 

And yet I know no lack. 



I never, never go alone; 

There is a step I cannot hear; 
There is a voice of sweetest tone. 

Of one I need most fear. 



I fear and yet I love that One, 

Who, step for step, doth walk with me, 
Whose Voice declares: "My will is done; 

You shall for aye mine be.'' 



3U 



That Voice doth tell me ever right; 

That Voice doth guide me ever true; 
It leads me aye to endless light, 

From place beyond the blue. 



Our God, the only God I know, 

Doth walk and talk and speak to me; 

It is more sweet than music's flow — 
In me he w^ill e'er be. 



315 



Cbri6t 3)cnic&» 

(Suggested by Sermon of Rev, H. J. Aldrich, Oswego, Kans.) 



Suppose a glow worm cease to live, 
Would this a night to worlds aye give? 
Or would the moon and glitt'ring star, 
Still shine for us from realms afar? 



Suppose the realms should lose a star, 
Would this our bliss or glory bar? 
Or would all worlds sweep on thro' space, 
To live and love a God of grace? 



Suppose a lamp should leave her light, 
Would plunge our world in endless night? 
Or would yon orb still steady burn; 
And to this earth for aye return? 



Suppose a Judas leaves his place; 
And spites a Savior to his face, 
Would this disprove the power of God? 
Or would a Judas feel His rod? 



316 



Suppose some Christians work and toil, 
To please the preacher or to foil? 
Does this disprove that Christ is King; 
And doth to us all blessings bring? 



Suppose some Christians haughty meet; 
And each in hate the other greet, 
Does this disprove that God is Love; 
And meek looks down from realms above? 



Suppose the sun should cease to shine. 
Does this disprove a God divine? 
Suppose he slay me, why not live; 
And all His glory to Him give? 



317 



1Revi0e&. 



The creed of Christ no course can find, 
In our, poor, selfish human mind. 

It is most blest for thee to give, 

Is creed by which but few do live. 



The church the ill-dressed poor will shun, 
While swift to rich will ever run. 

Each tho't, each act, each move, doth say, 
' That creed of Christ, away! away!" 



What would we do with Christ, our King, 
If He to church would boatman bring; 

And yet he sought such on the earth. 
While he with heaven was* begirth ! 



318 



ZMt ZorxQwc. 



T hear a tongue in ev'ry form, 

In sweetest calm and fiercest storm. 

I hear a Tongue in ev'ry rill — 

It speaks to me across the hill. 

I know that Voice where'er I be; 

I hear, I know, and God I see. 
I hear the tongue in ev'ry leaf; 

It whispers from yon bending sheaf. 

I hear the Tongue in storm that blows; 

I hear it when the ocean flows. 
I know the Tongue, the Voice of God; 

It speaks to all above the sod. 



319 



Zhc iPaet* 



I used to walk those narrow halls, 
All bounded by their rigid walls: 
I tried in vain my mind to cramp; 
It would not take the mouldered damp. 



The prayers were so rigid stale; 
Their very age had turned them pale. 
Give place, pale specters, from the past; 
You were the first and shall be last! 



Why come you forth in time of life? 
You are not equal to life's strife. 
You are dead relics of a time, 
When God himself did reign sublime. 



The prayers of one whose fresh belief, 
Doth to this hour bring sweet relief; 
Are still remembered by a few, 
Who keep this great man aye in view. 



320 



'Tis easy since he is so high 
The news doth ever bring him nigh. 
He had to leave such little men, 
Too weak to bear his tho't and pen. 



These lUtle men still gaze at each; 
But nothing neio will ever teach. 
Each looks in vain in other's face: 
No ray of light they ever trace. 



321 



IReeolution. 



I make resolve, as strong as Fate; 
And find myself at heaven's gate. 
The light floods out so full and clear; 
And God within, I needs must hear. 
And yet with all within, without, 
My higher self is put to rout. 



My God without, my God within, 
I'm conquered by my selfish sin. 
I am a wreck on Fortune's tide; 
Too weak do aught except decide. 
With all that God has done, Ifail: 
Wqti heaven's self cannot prevail. 



If once His image I did gain, 
What have I now that doth remain, 
But self, and sin, and churlish hate, 
All turned away by cruel Fate? 
Can ever I receive His grace. 
And stand by Him all face to face? 



322 



©rtbo&oxij* 



The orthodox is smoothest wheel — 
We roll along and lazy feel. 
It is jnst what our fathers thought — 
Experience has naught us bought. 

The orthodox is what /think; 

And heterodox Ms on the brink, 

Of fierce disaster that must come, 

To him who thinks for self, just some. 

The orthodox— a thousand creeds; 
And hist'ry tells of bloody^deeds, 
Of fire, of faggot, and of stake — 
The orthodox must needs these take. 

The orthodox, a pleasant way, 

Where men, long dead, still hold their sway. 

The orthodox ten million men, 

Dare but believe — not ask the ivhen. 



The orthodox, each church is right, 
Tho' plunged the rest in endless night. 
The orthodox, a sad, sad plight — 
My church, alone, of all is right. 



323 

(21) 



Ibeaven* 



It is a place just here below, 

Where daisies sweet in meadows grow. 
It is a place where pansies peep 

From fringe of hedge, which still doth sleep. 



It is the place where hearts give way; 

And each doth own the other's sway. 
It is the place where mother bends, 

O'er cradle sweet and baby tends. 



It is the place where all is love. 

As true as faithful Noah's dove. 

It is that place, where each will yield; 
And for his fellow prove a shield. 



324 



HH for Self. 



He lived, he toiled, he tho't for self; 

He cared for naught but praise or pelf. 
He claimed to cling to Christ alone, 

For him he said • did Christ atone. 



He never learned for God to give; 

He never learned for Christ to live; 
He never felt true fellow love, 

Tho ' this doth come from God above. 



He said he had been born anew; 

But into Christ he never grew. 
He prest his claim to heaven bright; 

But lived his day in darkest night. 



325 



Hbrabam ©ffcre fleaac. 



stern was the voice to Abraham spoke: 

"Take knife and flint and wood and child; 

And haste to Mount Moriah wild." 

Says Abraham's heart: "Can God revoke, 

And shall not Isaac always live? 

And shall his race not ever be 

In every land, on every sea? 

Is this not promise God did give? 

Then does this voice within suffice:" 

" 'Take now thy son, thine only son; 

Go now with me in unison: 

Go to yon mount, make sacrifice 

Of him whom I to thee did give; 

Lay down thine all on altar stern; 

For those who follow me must learn 

That all they have for me doth live. 

That death and life alike are mine: 

Thine Isaac doth to me belong 

And mine will be in heaven's throng; 

Obey, and hope, and trust are thine.'" 



326 



i 

His Sarah Abraham dare not tell 
As God's plan cannot, will not change. 
So early Abraham doth arrange 
For Isacc, men and beast as well, 
To go with him for weary days, 
Till mountain stern to Abraham's eye, 
Reveals place where his son must die— 
The place of awful sacrifice. 



Here Abraham Isaac takes alone; 

Who bears the faggots up the mount, 

Not knowing his life must account 

To God and for his race atone. 

So Isaac bound on altar lay, 

And Abraham raises knife on high; 

For God decreed his son must die: 

But Angel's voice cries: "Abraham stay; 

For now I know thou dost fear God: 

Lift up thine eyes in thicket see 

A ram is thy security. 

And God says not "pass under rod." 

Beloved God is aye the same; 

And asks of us what is His now. 

But soon returns it all somehow, 

To him who humbly breathes his name. 



327 



Cbriet 2)ie&. 



Christ died that 1 might live in Him, 
Far safer than a seraphim; 
He died that I might ever be 
His own for all eternity. 



He died for me and died for you ; 
He died for and worlds not a few; 
He died for men and women all 
He died for child tho' ne'er so small. 



He died that ev^ry blade of grass, 
Might live its life and sweet days pass, 
In smiles of heaven o'er it bent, 
As rainbow glory in it blent. 



He died for ev'ry bird in air, 

That wings its flight thro' sunlight fair; 

He died for ev'ry bird that's free 

To sing its sweetest melody. 



328 



He died that we might ever give 
Our love, our lives for Him to live, 
Who died that we might ever be 
Like Him who 'bides eternity. 



He 'bides till time shall have gone past; 
And vengeance leaves with God at last; 
He died that we might all forgive, 
Who in this world are made to live. 



He died to teach us how to love; 
Like him who came from world above; 
He died to teach the world be kind, 
Like him who died for all mankind. 



He died to teach us how to scorn 
The might of Him, a monarch born: 
He died to teach us free this land 
From Tyrant George's cruel hand. 



329 



He died to teach us what to be, 
This side the great eternity; 
He died that this United States 
Mio'ht free the East from darkest fates. 



He died that this great growing West, 
Might fling her light for aye the best, 
Away back East from whence we came 
To teach to men of little fame 



That moneyed men from us must know 
How men are equal here below: 
He died to make us ever true 
Like Washingtons who never rue 



The lives they live on this great earth, 
Where we may scorn the great by birth; 
He died that we might better grow, 
Till lives are pure as driven snow. 



330 



Cbriet Ebucateb. 



To Him no school her doors fling wide; 

For Him no teacher doth decide 
The problems grim that face each race, 

He fights alone in desert place. 



For Him no father masses wealth. 

By years of toil, aye years of stealth. 
For Him no list'ning senate stands 

To watch the Gestures of His hands. 



Aye locked to Him all classic lore, 

Which age on age had laid in store. 

His hand divine ne'er weilded pen, 

While he wrote down great truths for men. 



331 



He wrestled forty days alone; 

And hurled the tempter from his throne. 
He fought each foe within, without, 

And put his fiercest foes to rout. 



For forty days no food He ate; 

For forty days at hell's own gate. 
He learned to foil the demon's art, 

Which fitted him for life's great part. 



He listened only to that voice, 

Which all who hear, obey, rejoice. 

His training came from God alone. 

While God He saw upon His throne. 



.332 



Cbriet ©r&aineb* 

He stood by John in Jordan's stream, 

While heaven rifts with light agleam; 

And sends her shafts from space above 
To shine on Him whom we call Love. 



A dove grew restless in its place; 

And left the throne where face to face, 
'Fore God it stood with folded wing; 

And sped thro' space to Christ, our King. 

It cleaves the air with tireless wing, 

Till finds the brow of Christ, the King. 

And there abides as if to fill 

Her missive, "I will do thy will." 

A voice from heaven did ordain, 

' 'Thou art my son and shall remain 

The One in whom I am well pleased; 

For wrath divine thou hath appeased. " 

Now some to-day this voice can hear. 
While some obey from slavish fear; 

But each may hear his Father's voice, 
^*In you my son I do rejoice." 



333 



IRcliQion* 

Religion curse of ev'ry race 

Ten thousand ways you turn your face. 
Religion rides on horse well-worn, 

So far behind we must you scorn. 



Religion hid behind the times, 

You make excuse for many crimes; 

Religion with your reeking hand, 

In ages past you've curst each land. 



O bloody hand with thumbs on screw, 

You've crushed the bones of not a few. 

You place the body on the rack, 

While bloodstreams down your victim's back. 



334 



You bring the faggot and the stake, 

And there your victim helpless take; 

You watch with glee the horrid flame, 
As leaps it o'er the quiv'ry frame. 



You live a life of hollow sham, 

While silly heads with lies you cram; 
You tell the tale of dreaded woe, 

To all who dare to be thy foe. 



Ycru ride behind the scenes so far, 
No moon, no sun, no distant star, 

Reveals the darkness of your lot; 
And soon by us you'll be forgot. 



335 



(Counter Poem to Religion.) 

Go to all the world and teach 
Men how a better life to live. 
Teach them that all must all forgive, 

Who would the highest life e'er reach. 



Go show to men the life I live; 

Go show to men the Christian creed; 

Do good to men, the hungry feed; 
Go show men why they should forgive. 

Go show the man who lives for self, 
His life is blank and useless all; 
Show him but self can cause his fall, 

Teach him disdain all praise and pelf. 



336 



The sweetest creed that can be shown, 

The sweetest creed that God made known, 
Is do by others as ye would 

Have them do by you if you could. 



Teach men to live that they may see 
That God is good in sun and storm; 
That God is good at night, at morn, 

Teach them to ever thankful be. 



337 



Cburcble66. 

When Christ ascended thro' the air, 

He left no place for preacher's chair^ 

No building great nor tower nor fane 
Along this life's sequestered lane. 



No temple reared he to the cloud; 

No building great on earth did found; 
No power that would in days not yet, 

Enchain our lives and make us fret. 



No one was placed in awful chair, 

More dreaded than the lion 's liar, 

To lord it o'er a feeble race, 

Instead of walking pace for pace. 



No building that should thunder speak; 

And vengeance on the hapless reak. 
Who, forceful yet of feeble might, 

Aye true to God would do the right. 



338 



No one was left to force men's will; 

And yielding not their blood to spill; 
No church was left dear life to take, 

To force the the thumbscrew and the stake. 



No; Christ held not Jerusalem; 

Nor yet His birth-place, Bethlehem, 
As places fit for men to teach; 

But said, "Go to the world and preach. 



Go worship Me in heart, in life; 

Go end for aye this hateful strife; 
Go worship me in spirit true; 

And I will bless from bending blue. 



No church for men who never fail, 
When fight is on right in to sail; 

Tho' worship they would have— no none 

And lied when said, ' 'Thy will be done. '* 



339 

(23) 



2)eaconle00» 

When Christ from Olivet looked down, 
No deacon in the world was known; 

And yet he said, "My work's complete!" 
But since the deacon doth replete, 



To US this seems, say least most strange 
That God's own vision with such range 

A deacon dear should over look; 

And name hhn late in his great Book. 



How this can be I do not know, 

That God should miss Jihn here below; 

Since God doth never make mistake 
Why did He not a deacon make? 

No deacon, duped deceiving thief, 
Who prays to give himself relief: 

But great the burden from those fell 

When ceased that voice, a dead'ning knell. 



340 



He often on his God doth call, 

With talk of Adam and the fall; 

But knov7 we well his prayer lies, 

Whose good intent in distance dies. 



To-morrow he will cheat his men. 

With deeds too black for any pen. 

To-morrow he will lie in trade; 

And with all sin his soul will lade. 



To-morrow will the eagle scream. 

He holds so tight away from gleam 

Of light — the washer-woman's share, 
He keeps on — oh such dainty fare. 



341 



Ifaitb mot Mope. 



Hope looks thro' windows for her Love ; 
But Faith remains with God above. 



Hope solace finds in her flowers ; 
But Faith abides in her bowers. 



Hope builds in airy place her nest ; 
But Faith abides on Jesus' breast. 



Hope paints the lily in God's land ; 
But Faith hides self in God's own Hand. 



Hope builds her castles in the air ; 
But Faith finds Christ, ah ! aye so fair. 



Hope, jealous- winged, broods o'er her own ; 
But Faith hides aye in Christ as shown. 



Hope climbs the sky where rainbow bends ; 
And glory to God's Promise lends. 



842 



Faith finds all beauty in her God ; 
And loves His daisy hid in sod. 



Hope leaves us oft in deepest gloom ; 
But Faith bears us where Edens bloom. 



Hope builds a bridge o'er Jordan's tide ; 
But Faith walks on with Christ beside. 



Hope leaves us when our light grows dim ; 
But Faith unites us close to Him. 



Who prayed for us with latest breath ; 
And saved the world by his own death. 



Hope will deceive where e'er she can ; 
But Faith enables us to span 



Both Time and Tide till we shall be, 
With Christ in bliss, eternity. 



343 



(5ot) iforeaftce Iftot Ibie ®wn. 



For years the sky had bent hi mood, 
Too angry to grant man his food; 
For King Ahab's most wicked life, 
Had filled the land with awful strife. 



No dew from heaven came those years; 
Tho' night and day were spent in tears, 
By those who never sinned 'gainst Him; 
But prayed and tried to banish sin. 

Yet one Elijah God found firm; 
And of his faith he did confirm : 
In land of dearth, death, despair. 
Once fed this man by Chereth fair; 



For ravens did this man supply. 
With flesh and bread lest he should die. 
At length Brook, Chereth, passed away; 
But God remained both night and day. 



344 



So God sends him to widow poor, 
Who had but Httle food in store. 
She gave this man of God in haste; 
"And barrel of meal did not waste. " 



Her son, her hope, her all did live; 
For she to man of God did give. 
But then Ahab did not repent; 
Nor deeds of evil e'er relent : 



Tho' clouds came not nor any rain, 
He yielded not till he was slain. 
So all who fail in life repent. 
In self-destruction must be spent, 

(The above is a sermon review.— Text I Kings, I.) 



345 



3e9U0 in tbe flDan9ei\ 



The stars gazed down one still, clear night, 
And lo! the Son was hid from sight; 

The landlord, busy with his guest, 

Ne'er tho't, nor dreamed, nor even guest 



That in his manger Glory lay, 

On bed of straw or new mown hay, 

He rushed about the great to find 
At ease in body, spirit, mind. 



He looked within, he looked without; 

But never heard the angels shout. 
"To you is born a King to-day; 

Shall he in manger ever lay?" 



Some shepherds kept their flocks at night; 

E'en these the angels did not slight. 
But told to them a new born King, 

Doth peace to you and blessings bring." 



346 



They left their flock on hill and plain; 

For Christ was all they hoped to gain 
Nor time, nor tide, nor tireless wave 

Can rob of bliss beyond the grave. 



Some heathen students looked intent; 

And with their eyes on heaven bent, 
They read his name in starry air; 

And Christ they found in manger fair 



But still the world self -blinded stands; 

And never sees His pierced hands, 
Extended wide to all who think, 

To save from self and danger's brink. 



349 



4i 



3C5U6 Mcpt." 



He wept because the veil was drawn 
To show the future, clear as lawn, 

Besprinkled with the morning dew, 
Is brought by sunrise full in view. 



He wept because his vision saw 

The sacred city under law, 
Of Rome who brought her eagles forth, 

Prom east to w^est from south to north. 



He wept because old Rome's great might, 
Would plunge the Jew in endless night; 

He wept because the Jewish life, 

Would end in horrid, useless strife. 



:]-)0 



He wept because his work seemed vain, 
As grew the number of the slain 

Upon the threshold of his mind — 

Alas, the slain were his own kind! 



He wept as grim Old Famine stalked; 

And Jewish efforts all were balked: 
He wept to see a mother mild. 

Prepare for food her own dear child. 



He wept to hear the chains aye clank, 

That told a king for slave changed rank: 

He wept to see his brother sold, 

Enchained to post — aye all for gold. 



351 



3obn 3onc0 on Jcbovab 3uet* 

I used to think when but a child 

That God was mad at man and wild, 

To get at him with sword on edge; 
Or sling him headlong over ledge 



Of precipice so big and steep, 

That men slung down would gnash and weep. 
I useter be afraid of night; 

For I my God in day did slight. . 



My mother told me bad bo^^s went; 

An' all eternity they spent, 
In flames not blue nor red but white; 

And where the demons danced in spite. 



One demon seemed to be the boss; 

And he the little ones would toss, 
High up in air and down they'd fall; 

And he' jus' laugh when they would call 



352 



On God to help them in their pain: 

They'd writhe and writhe to twist from chain, 
He'd wrap around them with his hands, 

Ten times hotter than volcanic lands. 



Now mother didn't tell all this; 

But started me and I'd not miss 
A talk with boys about the place. 

Where black man meets us face to face. 



My brother Jim told me he knowed 

A sailor as had been where it snowed, 

All year round on Sunday, week-day; 
And had seen where the craters lay, 



Away up on mountains so high, 

That little folks could not get nigh : 

And these big craters breathed like men, 
Were down in 'em as tight as pen. 



.353 



I seen in center of the coop. 

Thro' winder of iron called the loop 
That time yon know dad won the day 

At court wlion made he Old Cheat pay. 



Jim said this man told him and Brown — 

You know young Brown, lie lives in town- 

That 'way down on theui great Andes 
Just this side the 'tipodes. 



There is the biggest volcanic tire; 

Its miles and miles — oh how mules tire, 
That climb and climb for many years, 

Before on top they prick their ears. 



As they smell smoke and hear the tlames, 

That burst from deep where wicket frames 

Hold men in heat as white as snow, 

While demons prance above, below. 



:i:a 



The Master of Ceremonies 

Drove up and down with ponies — 
I 'spose the ponies were of fire; 

And course they never, never tire. 



Jle'd drive right up to the tip-top 

And ev'ry moment his head would pop, 

I tight up among the flames of fire 
And he'd just call in his great ire 



For someone nobody could see; 

And soon he'd laugh in his great glee, 
As chain he wound some victim tight; 

And drag him into endless night. 



You mind the night old Sneak-Snake died- 
He used to talk the Crucified — 

Ijut cheated widow Smith of farm; 
And lied and lied to do her harm. 



355 



That was the night this sailor man, 
Just got to this place and began, 

To look around both in and out — 

Was skart fear he'd be put to rout. 



Or worse be killed and then dragged in 
And held forever for his sin; 

He said his hair jus' ris' on end — 

He looked for help but saw no friend. 



He shook like it" he had the chills 
Or been attacked by all life's ills. 

He heard men gnash their teeth in rage, 
As glared they on the endless page. 



That told the tale of woe and pain. 
In place they must for aye remain, 

On racks of fire must tortured be, 
Thro' deathless death, eternity. 



.356 



It hurt him so he stopt his ears; 

And thought and thought of countless years, 
These mortals must this pain endure, 

Locked in white chains, so stern and sure. 



Just then the master he came out; 

And looked and looked he all about- 
This sailor man did shut his eyes; 

But then could hear the awful cries. 



But heard the call above the rest 

That bro't a man like bird to nest 

Eight to the mouth that was agape — 

It was Old Sneak-Snake whose last scrape, 



Had gone agin him in the State; 

And brung him to this awful gate, 
Between the living and the dead, 

Where money would not do instead, 



Of justice which he always dodge'd: 

For high on earth by money lodged 

In Orders many he had bought; 

And thus his battles long had fought. 



357 



This man knowed Sneak-Snake by his gown; 

Because one year he nursed in town 
This vile old wretch buried by lodge, 

To which SO: many men will dodge. 



At last this man looked up and saw 

This bein' more stern than the law; 

And saw the father of all lies 

For which the liar at last dies. 

He saw his horns both long and strong, 
With which he forces foe along: 

He heard the sound of his split hoof 
Like hail that falls upon the roof. 

* * * -H- 



I went to hear the preacher grave, 

Who said Christ died He might all save 

And then I tell you I was glad; 

For Christ he said died for the bad. 



I thought the^preacher must mean me; 

For I was bad as bad could be. 
I told my mother' with much joy, 

Who said I was a bad, bad boy, 



35:8 



To listen lest I should be lost; 

Thus learn at such a dreadful cost 
How ill it is to misconstrue 

And make Him mad beyond the blue. 



Now mother told me to be good, 
Tho' I the preacher understood 

That Christ the sinner died to save; 
And take Him over Jordan's wave, 



In time of death which comes to all, 
Or soon or late or great or small 

He said man's goodness won't avail; 

But look to ChrisT; who would prevail. 



But mother told me to be good, 

While I beside her often stood. 

Be good and heaven would receive, 
When Death at last did me relieve. 



And then I heard the preacher say 
That God is angry and alway. 

With wicked men who live for self; 

And work and toil for praise or pelf. 



359 



I was afraid of life and death; 

And fearfu] when I drew my breath, 
Lest God who thunders in the cloud, 

Should slay and wrap me in Death's shroud 



But when my cousin did convert, 

This did my mind at once divert; 

And tho 't I then when I grow gray, 

I may convert and God's wrath stay. 



The preacher says that God is love; 

And rules his hosts in lands above: 
And Christ the sinner died to save; 

And yet in hell the sinners rave. 



360 



3e0U0 Seeftlng tbe Xoet* 



Review of Address in the CountyJail, Oswego, Kan., Sept. 30, 
1900, 3 p. m. 

Christ came to seek and save the lost; 

He came to seek at any cost; 
It cost all heaven's kindly light, 
■ It cost all heaven's kindly might. 



He came to die that He might give 
To us the right with Him to live. 

He sought to save by sovereign will: 
He sought to save at Kedron's rill. 

He sought to save from darkest night; 

He sought to save in heaven's light; 
He sought to save our sinful race — 

To place His image in our face. 

He came uncrowned to curse and cross; 

He bought by birth and blood and loss: 
He sought the sinner's sinful shame; 
And bore his blighted, banished name. 



361 



Christ knelt to know how near His God; 

He fought our fight on Kedron sod; 
Then travel- tired, well- tested, tried. 

He climbed our hill, the Crucified. 



He died our death on cruel cross, 

Sustained the sinner's awful loss. 

He died upon the curse 'd tree, 

That you and I might aye be free. 



362 



Xove of (Bob* 

Review of Sermon by Rev. Arthur Creasy, Sunday, May 6, 1900. 

O love of God, so pure, so true, 
More lasting than the bending blue! 
O love of God to all mankind I 
O love of God in us we find! 

A life, a love, a hope that man 
Somehow, somewhere, some when shall span 
The space that sin now makes between 
The lost and Him we call Unseen. 



Unseen, yet felt and to us known 
In love and life as has been shown 
To hearts divine in ev'ry clime. 
On ev'ry land and ev'ry time. 



O love of God we see thee now, 
A laurel left on Labor's brow; 
O love of God thou wilt aye reach 
And by thy Holy Spirit teach 



363 



Us all to stoop that they may stand, 
While we to them extend our hand, 
Teach us that Christ is from above — 
A realm of light where all is love. 



O Love ye died for all the world — 
Have we to all Thy flag unfurled? 
Christ died for sins that are our own; 
And died for all as has been shown. 



How can the Christ the infinite 

Who ne'er despised a widow's mite, 

In vain be lifted on the cross; 

And there look down on shame and loss? 



How can our God who wills no death, 
Look on while my expiring breath, 
Declares to Him His will has failed; 
And Christ's own death has not availed? 



How can the Christ, the Crucified 
In heaven sit, the Glorified; 
And cast His eyes to darkest place. 
Where I am banished, awful space? 



364 



Xigbt from Cbriet. 

In light of love divine we live; 

In light of love divine we give 

Our days, our hours, with Christ to be 

Both now and in eternity. 



With light divine we search the world, 
To find that Christ his flag unfurled, 
For us to fight in cause of love. 
With Him who guides us from above. 



With light of love our friends discern 
We've been with Christ from Him to learn; 
With light of Christ our foes do know 
Our lives are pure as driven snow. 



A cloud of promise round us bends; 
And us its rainbow glory lends. 
O'er us the softened colors play; 

And day or night is one bright ray. 

« 

O Christ so pure, so strong, so true 
May we thy glory keep in view; 
But where we fail be thou our guide, 
And keep us near the Crucified. 



365 



flD^ 1k(nc}^om IRot of Eartb- 



When Pilate stood before our King 
In doubt, in fear, and hopeless state. 
He pressed in vain to find one thing 
'Gainst him who came thro' heaven's gate; 
But left it open in His love 
He came for men on earth to save 
From sin and self for life above. 
At length with vicious visage grave 
The haughty judge in voice most stern 
Of Jesus asks, ''Art thou a king?" 
Now Christ that all the world might learn 
What he for naught to them did bring 
In accents sweet and mild, replies: 



366 



''My kingdom is not of this world: 

For that born here, here always dies 

But there, no hope, no wish is hurled 

To deep abyss of nothingness. 

My kingdom lies beyond this plain, 

Where men do build self -righteousness: 

Beyond the greatest, grandest dream 

Of Roman might and Roman power; 

My Kingdom lies beyond that doubt 

Which haunts thy life, proud judge, each hour. 

It lies beyond the highest mount 

Of Roman law or Jewish hate. 

It lies, false judge, in that fair place, 

Which knows no bound and has no gate. 

It is a land of such sweet grace 

That angels fair the threshold cross 

Of men's minds that are in dreamland wide: 

So that the dreamer knows no loss 

Of time or pelf while turned aside 

From night and death and deep despair. 

So came the truth to your own wife, 

Who tried to save thee from much care 

By teaching you how end this strife, 

Which strife is right or it is wrong. 



367 



O Pilate, proud, ^thou must decide, 
To-day and now for all this throng 
Between the right and wrong so wide. 
O Pilate, judge, judged thou shalt be; 
In light of kingdom thou dost scorn; 
In light of kingdom found in me; 
In light of kingdom knows no morn; 
No sun, no moon, no star are there. 
My kingdom knows no now, no then. 
No here, no there, no tho't, no care; 
My kingdom is fair to all men. 
Who fearless be and judgment give. 
Not fashioned to please this day or hour 
Who will do right tho' die or live 
Each fond hope, held forth by power. 
O Pilate in my kingdom known 
To God, to me, to angels bright. 
You will exchange your place as shown 
To me in land without a night; 
In land where I the bench shall hold; 
In land where I am all the light; 
In land where truth alone is ' 'bold. " 



368 



1Ro IKaebblng Garment 



A king once urged his friends to dine 
With him upon a certain night; 
But they his kindness all did slight, 

And hence he said, ''These friends of mine 



No more with me shall ever dine: 

Go, servants, to the lame and blind; 
And tell what's in your master's mind. 

And haste call men to feast of mine." 



They came to feast as were required; 
And seated rouad the table were, 
When in king came to view them there; 

And found he one not there desired. 



This one sat proud in his own place 
And felt his worth so great to be, 
That he could sue eternity; 

And meet the king aye face to face. 

So he was clad as suited whim, 

Of one whose sin had made him bold; 

Of one who heard not truth, tho' told, 
By waiting angel, seraphim. 

369 



The king came in to^ueiv the throng; 
And soon his eye fell on man vile, 
He could not greet with kindest smile; 

And hence there ceased both mirth and song, 



While accents stern in that place fell. 
As king demands the wh}^, the how 
This man at wedding should be now, 

Without the robe that all compel. 



His fellows wear at wedding feast, 
This man was silent as the day, 
Will pass for aye to tiight away; 

For hope in words he has not least. 



The king commands him bound in chain; 

And cast where weeping shall prevail; 

And tears and prayers will not avail, 
Where Hope hopes not for all are slain. 



Dear Friend, are thou prepared for place; 
Prepared for thee at God's right Hand, 
With garment new from heaven land 

Be robed now meet God face to face? 



370 



pa0torle00* 



When Christ returned from earth to God, 
No pastor walked the swarthy sod; 

No pastor looi?:ed from pulpit down, 

On pews well filled with aw^ful frown. 



When Christ was driven from the church, 
He left no victim in the lurch; 

But said to men, "Go out and preach; 
For I in church have failed to teach. 



So go ye out among the men, 

Who hunted are thro' vale and glen: 
I will with you be to the end 

Thus ever shall you find a Friend. " 



Christ never said, "Go wait a call 
In style precise as any hall: 

Go wait till men shall call you out; 
For 1 know not what I'm about. 



371 



'tmmi'f^ 



Christ never said, "Go, college grind; 

For there will ye not ever find, " 
No, Christ did know the curse of call 

That ends at last in one black-ball. 



No; Christ did know that men would meet 
All smiles the pastor new to greet; 

But long before the end of year, 

They'd steal his name without a fear. 



No! Christ looked down on factions bold, 
Who soon would drive the priest in cold; 

Or leave on highway aye to starve; 

Or fortune from other source carve. 



372 



IReligion* 

Counter Poem to Christ's Creed. 

Religion, curse of ev'ry age — 
Blood-stained you are on ev'ry page, 
You bind the blest to curse'^d stake: 
But never you can make mistake! 



You change your face with such ill grace, 
'Tis hard to find your y ester-place; 
And yet you make us bend the knee, 
To hear the neio mandate from thee. 



There was a time when you did teach 
That span-long infant's hell would reach; 
But now you say that Christ will save 
The little ones beyond the grave. 



What change will come no one can know, 
Who is but finite here below. 
To thee before this age is past — 
Will there a thread remain at last? 



373 

(24) 



Sowtns an& IReaping* 



"Be not deceived, God is not mocked;" 
For whatsoever ye have sown 
Will in eternity be shown 

Each tho't, each word, each deed is looked. 



By him who holds and guards the key; 

By him who loves the sinner well; 

By him who tries with men to dwell ; 
That he may make them holy be. 



And thus fit for eternity : 

A day will come when grace will end 
And only those who have that Friend 

Of sinners, Christ, will live to see 



Their fruits bloom iu eternity. 

Dear Friend, hast thou sown aught to-day, 
That will thro' ages long bring pay 

To thee; because thou wilt placed be, 



374 



Beside Him in whose name you live; 

Beside Him for whom thou did'st sow: 
Beside Him who commands you now 

' 'Go ye to all the world and give 



My word, my oath, my gospel grace. 
That I for sinners once did die; 
That blood my own might draw them nigh 

To Him who finds each sinner place. 



Who turns from sin and pleads my blood; 
Then helps another on path steep 
That he may better his feet keep 

From slipping into whelming flood." 



O sinner, turn to Christ for life; 

Then give your work to Him who died 
Whom now w^e call the Crucified; 

Go; change thy work and cease thy strife. 



O child of God, how" sure thou art 

That seed ye sow in deeds of love. 
Will ever bloom in realms above, 

Where Christ for you still does his part. 



375 



ScbooUeee. 



No school on earth by Christ was built; 

No school in which to foster guilt; 
No school to turn the sons of men, 

Away from farm and trade to pen. 

No school to slight the noble born 

Who look upon the great with scorn- 

The great, just great because of place, 
They hold above the rest of race. 



No school to use the patent leaf; 

But leave God's word a useless sheaf; 
No school with Sunday sheet to write 

The girlish love or churlish spite. 



Christ left no school with children few, 
Who never have His Book in view. 

Christ left no super who could cheat; 
And sons of sin could each day beat. 



376 



Christ left no leaves for child of three, 
Who paid no price but had them free. 

He left no "paper" in the place 

Of Book where God reveals His face. 



No school where child of ten stands up; 

And offers drink from "paper" cup, 
To babies who may never know 

That Christ once talked on earth below. 



Christ never made the modern school. 
Where men must ape and be a fool; 

And Christ did not the Word deny. 
Or God in heaven once defy. 



377 



Zvoo Crowb0^ 



No. 1, 



When heated hate her work hath done, 
To worship God we'll find not one, 

When sneaky, snaky, snarly Thief 
Has found for self a sweet relief 



The duped and dying will perceive, 
He came in flock but to deceive. 

When Ignoramus part is played 

We'll know why he so long delayed. 



When Spitfire with her brazen face 
Hath left again to fail with pace. 

As quick as that she made before. 

Who will bring bread from endless store? 



When tears from crocodile shall fail — 
Who then shall weep yet not prevail 

To make men think ^she is so sweet — 
She doth her Savior often meet? 



378 



When Please- All's cloak is thrown aside, 
He then can tell what horse to ride, 

We'll give him saddle, broad and stout, 
So he can turn with ease about 



To see which way he'd better turn, 
So that his feelings will not burn; 

If left alone, he would do right ; 

But lacks he courage now to fight. 



Ingratitude did soon turn back, 

Tho' long we keptihim from the rack, 

Placed there by those who said, "He drinks' 
We said he now much better thinks. 



When first with us his scanty fame, 
Enabled us to bless his name : 

In days not late our easy cash, 

Helped him to make his greatest mash. 



Old Sloth and Stubborn robbed a farm, 
Altho' he says he does no harm; 

Old Sloth and Stubborn dirty goes 

A shame to all his friends and foes. 



179 



Soon end will come, then let us know- 
If aught is left on earth below — 

So we can all the strong man see 
Who'll carry out what pieces be. 



No. 2. 



Ye crowd of Christ can carry cross — 

No crowd of Christ can come to loss — 

The crowd of Christ did paddle, pray; 
And none their ship can ever stay. 

God gave them favor in men's sight, 

Because they bore His burdens light, 

God grants them favor ever new; 

For they have learned He's with the few 



You bear His image in your face; 

Ye first and last of that ^reat race. 
That hath from age to age made place 

For Him who brio^htens each saint's face. 



380 



You carry Christ to ev'ry land, 

The sweetest rarest happy band; 

You live your life that men may see 

His blood doth bind, yet makes you free. 



Your God doth give you grace so sweet. 

You know you doth him often meet: 
You fear no foe^ tho' fierce the fire; 

And never will like Saul retire. 



Your hope is high in happy state, 

Where God gives none to cruel hate; 

You lift the lowest life on high : 
For Christ to you is ever nigh. 



Your barque is borne adown life's stream, 
Whose waters sparkle in the gleam 

Of light this life can never give — 
No doubt or fear can ever live. 



The port lies ever in your view 

Tho' hid from all but just afew: 

The haven is eternal rest. 

For those in Christ who do their best. 



381 



Zbc (Breat Commieeioiu 



Go ye and preach to all the world: 

For Christ has His great flag unfurled. 

It kisses breeze in ev'ry land 

Upborne by God's own mighty Hand. 

E'en China's gates are open wide; 

And Christian ships her ports free ride: 

Yes, India's great and coral strand, 

Is held by God for gospel land. 

Go ye and teach in every realm; 

For God's own hand is on the helm. 

The Cuban Star fails not to live; 

So we to her the gospel give. 

To us the Philippines are lent; 

Since Christ for them his life has spent. 

Go ye with Christ to every soil; 

Where countless millions useless toil 

To save their souls with gods they make; 

Go teach and toil to show mistake. 

Go bind and banish from the blind 

The creatures fashioned by man's mind. 

Go teach the. Christ once crucified; 

Go teach the Christ now glorified. 

O Oswego, so blest of God 

That never yet passed under rod 

Of wrath divine in days of yore, 

What blessings still are laid in store 

No man on earth can ever . know. 

Till faith by works each one doth show. 

382 



Zbc Ca0b Cbrietian* 



The child of Christ has cash on hand 
To bless each year a helpless land. 

The man who never helps with cash, 
Will feel each loss a heavy lash ; 



Because when ''hard times" him do reach 
He will then learn what he did teach, 

When close he kept his well- filled store 
Prom those who hungered evermore. 



My cash will reach aye Galveston, 
As sure as did once Washington 

The English drive from this great land, 
Who felt the force of God's own hand. 



383 



The child of God will ever give; 

For God doth teach him so to live, 
That he may learn 'tis far more blest 

To give than ask all from the rest. 



How can a man a Christian be; 

And yet so much of suff'ring see, 
Without extending once his hand, 

Relieve distress in this great land. 



Bear you the burdens of each one 

Thus say in heart, "Thy will be done, " 

To men on earth we show our love. 
If we have love to God above. 



384 



H'm praijing for ^on. 



I kneel before the throne of grace; 

And pray to Christ — ay face to face: 
I pray for health return to thee — 

I know he hears, yea even me. 



I pray him spare your life so sweet, 

That doth each danger bravely meet; 

I pray him grant thee more sunshine — 
I love thy life, so pure, divine. 



I have no quest for self to make; 

But ask him not tJiy life to take; 
Because thou art so free, so kind; 

So filled with God's own holy mind. 



385 



I know God loves thee for thy worth; 

I know thou hast had Glory's birth; 
I know thou art God's sweetest child — 

The loss of thee will drive me wild. 



I know He'll spare thee in His love; 

I know we '11 meet in land above. 
I know till then we shall endure; 

For Christ till then will ave allure. 



386 



2)i& 6oi> 2)0 Hi0 IBCBtl 

Some say that God, the Infinite, 

Did make this world, so firm and sure; 
And yet made heavens, us allure 

To them where He is throned in white. 



In brief this world is not His best; 
But far beyond there is a world, 
Where He a sweeter flag unfurled, 

Which floats the realm, Eternal Rest. 



Now, when He built this lower world, 
What had He that He lacked at first, 
When Voice, His own,, the silence burst 

With words, "Let aye My flag be furled?" 



387 



He had all might to make this realm; 
And had all space, when He began, 
Nor stoptfor dust when He made man; 

And Christ on Right to guard the helm: 

The Holy Spirit brooded well, 

Then what lacked He, when made the rose, 
Which blossomed forth from sweet repose? 

Has He since gained some magic spell? 



You say he has no poiver gained; 

And that He always does His best: 
Where of His skill is better test? 

Had He some force that he retained? 



With us our practice perfect makes: 
Is this the case with God above, 
Who rules in heaven all in love? 

"O yes, you say, He practice takes.'' 



388 



If this be true, my pessmic friend, 

This world is best that he has made, 
And throws all others in the shade; 

Because he did it last extend. 



He made the heavens and the earth; 
So that it is quite clear to me 
This world was last for Him to see; 

And was with past all glory girth. 



He made this world for us to take 

The good or bad just as we please, 
To live in pain or at our ease 

To live as smooth as sail on lake. 



We make our heaven and our hell : 

We fill our lives with sweetest bliss; 
Or all, except the bad, we miss 

Some ring thro' life Death's own sad knell. 



389 

(25) 



We make our hell while here we live; 

For God ne'er made a hell for us. 

But borrows. one where devils fuss — 
This borrowed hell to us will give. 

Our heaven is where rainbows meet; 
Our heaven is in our own mind, 
Where God, himself, we can aye find, 

Our heaven is where lovers greet. 



390 



flD?0ter?» 



If God be all and in all, then I know 

That God indwells men, and my very life, 

Is filled with him who knows no length or breadth; 

And fills no space, and yet doth fill it all. 



If God be all, and not divided now, 
How can it be that I am of Him, part? 
If I no part of Him am, how can He 
Be all, fill all, in all, and I be one? 



If He be all, then there can be but One. 
If He be all, it must be 1 am none. 
If I am not how can He be in me? 
Is He in me, and yet in heaven too? 



391 



We say He is enthroned in heaven fair; 
And yet Christ's kingdom is to-day in us. 
If He be in us and in heaven too, 
It must be that heaven too is in us. 



I am in Him, tho' He in heaven dwells. 
Then am I not in Heaven with Him too? 
I am; I know; it is; it must be so. 
But I am on this orb, we call the earth. 



If I in heaven, dwell with God, to-day; 
And yet I live upon this heaven earth, 
Then heaven must be on this earth of ours. 
Yea; heaven, home, hope, and hell all are here. 



J92 



IRo ^ru0t0 in Ibeaven. 

Papa: 

You ask about a trust my child; 

It seems to me your question's wild: 
You are too young to understand 

About this capital and hand. 



Son: 

My teacher said no trust could be 

Among the just that she could see. 

She says they're frauds and frightful things- 
Just what have slain so many kings. 



She said the kings tramped on the right 
Of people who at last would fight; 

And down them as they did in France, 
So that the people now advance. 



She said no trust in heaven be, 

And this is what I could not see: 

Because at church you hold front place, 
And surely yoic will see God's face. 



393 



And yet the boys keep telling me 
My father holds the Hour in fee 

For trusts, that he the poor may rob- 
The worst of all is Snobby Bob: 



He said my papa was a thief; 

And that all wheat right in the sheaf, 
Or bin at mill or any place, 

Belonged to all the human race. 



I cannot bear to hear this spite; 

And hate my class where I recite. 
I wish pa you would leave this trust; 

Or else stay home from school I must. 



Fapa: 

Your teacher is a fool, I see, 

To get the boys to start on me: 

My money I will aye invest — 

My right's as good as all the rest. 



:\M 



Good trusts improve what e'er we hold; 

And must be owned by men of gold. 
She does not know what she's about; 

Just you keep on we'll turn her out. 



Bo^j: 

Yes, papa, but then the hoys you see, 

Will nag and nag all day at me. 
I wish a trust you never had; 

For I believe they all are bad. 



I do not like to go to school; 

And when I cry, be called a fool, 
By boys who sing about the Trust — 

A song that says 'The trusts we'll bust. 



I wish papa you did not own 

This hateful thing that has been shown 
Tp have no place in heaven wide, 

For which the boys do me deride. 



395 



Papa then tho't within himself 

I would not lose for praise or'pelf 

That place no trust has ever found, 
For all the wealth there is around. 



And then another trouble lies: 

In that fair land beyond the skies; 

'Tis said we all push our old trade; 

With ne'er a trust in glen or glade, 



What will the Master set me at; 

For trust begone I can't work that? 
Just then a trust combine did phone; 

A.nd so his boy he left alone. 



396 



^eacb fiDe 1know- 

O God, myself, wilt thou not teach. 
That I thyself, thro' self may reach? 
There breathes a life in me — all thine: 
Then I like thee must be divine. 



O God, just show me what Thou art, 
By aiding me with that small part, 
Myself, where thou dost aye reside. 
To banish self and human pride. 



O God, too great, for haughty pride, 
Teach me that men I live beside. 
Are like myself a part of thee, 
That I, in them, thyself may see. 



397 



1be Sbiet)^ 

He was afraid of dread disease, 

Thus said to others, ''You go please." 
He was a Christian, too, I hear; 

But knew no Christ we all do fear. 



Some Christians look for happy place; 

But keep between the greatest space. 
They say this is a wicked world; 

But one red flag across unfurled, 



Will give the lie to all they teach — 
They rush afar safe place to reach, 

They say they love their fellow men, 
Whom they let die in filthy pen. 



Their souls shrink up and pass away, 
From this their tenet, selfish clay: 

They then hope sweet heaven to win; 
But Peter ne'er w^ill let them in. 



398 



Zbc Ben&e& Bow* 

If I should paint the bended bow, 

That bends to break on earth below, 

How could I give it other form, 

Than that which bends just after storm? 



It bends from heaven all complete; 

But near the earth is less replete. 
In fact 'tis flat just at that place. 

Where God would us meet face-to-face. 



The flat is ours, the place we hold 

Our poisoned arrows, shot so bold, 

Right back at Him who curves the round: 
And bends to make it reach the ground. 

The bow is bent, the strongest form, 
A ladder placed, just after storm, 

For angels pass; and then return 

To light our lamp, and leave it burn. 



399 



This light leaves none on earth bereft; 

But shows the Rock of Ages cleft, 
For men who cease their bitter hate, 

To seek the Savior, ere too late. 



The blue that bends in rainbow rare, 
Declares to me that God will share 

His love with men and angels true, 

While heaven hangs in yonder blue. 



The red, the crimson blood that fell 
The story sweet to all doth tell — 

The cross, the crown, the curs'^ed tree, 
Have all been past to make men free. 



Each seven years we mortals change — 
The colors cover all the range: 

And so the rainbow tells the tale. 

Our God's with us or calm or srale. 



400 



The largest number seen for years, 

Had gathered with their doubts and fears. 

Christ could not at His table count, 
So many as at steps dismount. 



Old Sneak- Snake wriggles into church — 
His oily tongue is left in lurch, 

Tho' it is full of foulest lies: 

The Truth stands up and him defies. 



Old PuU-Back kept within his seat. 
Quite glad to beat a false retreat. 

His life so vile he could not face 

That one, who bro't him God's own grace. 



401 



Astride-the-Fence did watch to find 

A chance to change his shallow mind. 

He said, I will the major know; 

And then I'll see just where to grow. 



Old Brazen -Face, had ruined her man. 
Got in her say, when fight began. 

All vain her words, they failed to kill; 
She was all foiled by steady skill. 



Please- A.11, too lazy take a stand, 

Was not so slow^ with ballot hand. 

He would do right, but courage lack — 
His weakness lay right in his back. 



403 



Old Pocket -Tight pleads all in vain, 

While fall her tears, a summer rain 

Her love-in all three dimes a year. 
Was best exprest by falling tear. 



Young Know-it- All the law did trace. 
With hateful, sin-bespattered face. 

The point held out did break in twain- 
Her little brain could not retain. 



The wrangle o'er, the ballot cast — 

The demons' day is downed at last. 

And Right doth build her mighty bridge, 
A bloody fight on heaven's ridge. 



403 



(5ot)'0 2)ebt 



Suppose of life I am bereft? 
Suppose no life beyond is left? 
What owest thou, O God to me — 
So much I feel, I hear, I see? 



Suppose the life beyond be naught, 
This life is full with blessings fraught. 
I hear the busy breezes play; 
I hear the babbling brook all day. 



I catch the droppings from the sky. 
Where birds in air make Him reply, 
Who gave them sweetest song to sing. 
For Him who is their mighty King. 



404 



God gave me life and filled with breath, 
What owes He me, tho' end in death 
My joy, my hope, my love, my hate, 
My place has been at heaven's gate. 



He gave me life, I ne'er deserve, 
Why not another life reserve? 
He gave me life before I knew, 
Why now deny the life in view? 



405 

(26) 



Suggested February 3, a. m, Sermon Rev. H. J. Aldricb. 

Go search thyself, set sin aside, 

For pearls all priceless now have proved 
In hand, in head, in heart, abide; 

Univail thine eyes, see God unmoved. 



Since that first day He made divine 

The man, He filled with His own breath; 

Thus said of him, all good and mine, 
Not subject to that monster, Death. 



Go search thyself, Eternal One; 

No mine, so rich, so rare in earth, 
In sea, or sky, whate'er be done; 

No other is with heaven girth. 



406 



Go search thyself for faith in self; 

And then thy faith in others find, 
Go set aside the force of pelf, 

Go find His image in your mind. 



God made in you His higher self, 

Go find that image strong and pure 

Do deeds of love just like himself; 
And heaven, His, you will allure. 



407 



a ^rtn(ti?^flDo0C6 or Xigbt 

Susgosted by Edwin U. Harris, 'The Half llatli Never Been 
Told," or "Alpha and Omesa." 

Ay reared, amid the priests of Egypt lore, 
A light incarnate follows ever more. 
In Moses' self the light doth ever burn; 
To Moses' self he doth for aye return. 



A babe adrift, this light on sacred stream, 
Was owned by Prince who caught his heaven- 
gleam; 
And reared him as her son in Pharoah's land, 
Where light incarnate broke on hapless band. 



A blood-bought land, and yet a banished race, 
Of Hebrews, sons of God, who held slaves 'place 
In helpless hate all shackled by a king, 
Who might from God, thro' them, all blessings 
bring. 



But thro' them, brings he his own people's death; 
For, from them, for his sake, God takes His 

breath. 
And they areo'erwhelmedby the troubled sea, 
A fortress for God's own, from lea to lea. 



408 



The heir apparent to a mighty throne, 
Meek Moses sought light in himself alone. 
One day this light burst into wrathful flame, 
And Moses slew in Liberty's great name. 



He saw a son of Egypt in his hate, 
Strike down a Hebrew, shackled to his fate. 
The light within perceived just vengeance saw- 
He slew the murd'rer 'gainst the Egypt law. 



So Moses fled to Midia's great waste, 
A school he trained for forty years: as haste, 
Is all unknown to that great light above, 
That indwelt him as Noah's ark, the dove. 



That light within burst one day on his sight; 
And filled a bush near by with wond'rous light — 
The hardest task for man to learn is self; 
For self's not locked in books, or bribed by pelf. 



409 



At length the burning bush had Moses taught 
That backward far with many dangers fraught, 
He must betake his way to Egypt dim; 
And face his former foes so sullen, grim. 



So soon he bent his steps to that great realm, 
Where so much dark did all the light o'erwhelm. 
Arrived against the proud, he takes his stand, 
Sustained by might, not found on sea or land. 



He foiled his foes, so fierce with fiendish hate; 
Because he had just left fair heaven's gate. 
The Hebrews, drawn by light from that foul place, 
In desert soon meet their God all face to face. 



He m^kes them manna in His clouds above; 
And showers send to them in tender love. 
But they make murmur, mutter and complain; 
And fiesh-pots wish, or graves with others slain. 



410 



For forty years the sullen, stubborn Jew, 
More insolent, and insolent more grew, 
Till Moses brings them to that parting place, 
Where ne'er more they'll know the light of his 
face. 



He never had a country, church or creed, 
A causeless curse close clung; no crown or meed, 
Made Moses meek look up in grateful love — 
No windowed ark for him as Noah's dove. 



For forty years he bore proud Egypt's night; 
For forty more he studied his own light, 
In desert wild where he with God alone. 
Was taught the good for bad must aye atone. 



411 



Unworthy are they who enter that land, 
Whence Moses meek debarred by God 's own Hand. 
O Moses, mystic hid by Hand of God, 
Did He not turn for thee the promised sod? 



Full fifteen hundred years are backward cast; 
And Moses stands in promised land at last; 
Celestial — clothed with Christ on that fair mount, 
Meek Moses lost the past, its name, account. 



412 



Cbriet, or Xove Ifncarnate^ 

When Christ decrowned descended to the world, 
All heaven flags half-mast were rolled and 
furled. 

But angels bright that aid earth's fallen race, 

Foresaw that he would take dread Sinai's place. 



And sang, "All peace on earth good will to men;" 
For Love Incarnate will take the law's pen, 

To write in blood, His own, ' 'I pray forgive, 

And God replies, "My Son, in Thee, they live." 



So Love Incarnate, born in manger low, 

To show to men that birth is naught below, 

Soon found foes, fierce, around this lovely place. 
Was forced to flee to find Egypt's poor grace, 



Where Moses long before in lonely birth, 

Around his cradle drew yon glory — girth; 

How meet that Love should land in that great realm, 
Where Moses light did self and all o'erwhelm ! 



413 



Now Love did linger long for manhood's years; 

Did spent; was spent; did shed for self no tears. 
But toiled long time for mother, brother, friend: 

His talents, others would He for aye lend. 



At length words rich from those lips sacred fell, 
As on the mount he did His story tell 

How Pharisee and Scribe by matchless greed. 
Was closed from heaven and heavenly meed. 



The meek, the mild, the sorrowful were sure 

Of heaven, hope, while heaven's self endure. 

The sulf 'rer nor his parents were in blame; 
But healing came to glorify His name. 



When He at marriage made the water wine, 

This proved His love as well as Him divine; 

He willing all should enjoy the feast, 

Made wine so new it harmed not one the least. 



414 



Christ's church was found in wilderness most wild. 

Altho' in love He entered temple mild, 
To find all wares and merchandise had place, 

Where men should meet their God aye face to 
face. 



With courage Christ did cleanse the house, so true, 
Whose magic dome did reach the bending blue: 

But then the Pharisee with murder bent. 

Did try to trap the Truth where'er He went. 

So Christ the church attacked with Pharisee — 
No Scribe, no sect, no sin, with Christ could be. 

And all His days the Pharisaic hate, 

Did hound His steps from early unto late. 



He stood beside the bier where widow's child, 

Was laid in death, her son, so grief was wild. 

Re-called the life, departed long before, 
Re-gave her son to her forevermore. 



4i5 



The woman ta'on in sin ho did forgive 

But warned her from then ever sinless Uve; 

For men the man to Him had failed to bring — 
The Christ no coward was, but Heaven's King. 



This Son did love the loveless; yet He knew 

The hate of church, and state against Him grew. 

No church, no home, no place to rest He had; 
Yet common people heard him, were made glad. 



He was pursued to death by double hate: 

And yet in life He lived at hea veil's gate; 

The curse, the crown of thorns, the hated tree. 
He bore in love, and prayed His foes set free. 



O Love, all love, your life so long doth last; 

O Love, all love, your life, in love is cast; 
O Love, all love, you linger by the rill; 

O Love, you live in cot beyond the hill. 



416 



Columbus, or Xibcrti? Ilncarnate* 

You stand alone, O greatest man 
E'er graced this earth since God began, 
From chaos called, the land and sea: 
Columbus great on sea or lea. 



Columbus, thou, the mighty art; 
So well in life hast played thy part. 
Columbus, hadst thou mad man's brain? 
Who sent thee then across the main? 



Columbus far beyond thine age, 
A target sure for fools' rank rage. 
Columbus, you unvailed a world; 
And Liberty's flag was aye unfurled. 



O Colon, great, and grand, and good, 
By fools not yet quite understood. 
Columbus, greatest light, that flashed, 
O'er ages dark, thro' ocean dashed. 



417 



Columbus, braver than the brave, 
From darkest hell you worlds do save: 
You prove the earth of spheric form; 
Thus brave the hate of furled storm. 



Long years on years you plod in vain; 
You see beyond the raging main. 
Three years the Christ our curses bore: 
Ten times three men did hiss thee more. 



But Liberty no hell can chain; 
All hounds pursue thy life in vain: 
With bloody fangs each step they track; 
But hell, herself, thyself holds back. 



So grim you held by magic spell — 
Come life, come death, come heaven, hell. 
You begged your way on foot alone! 
Oh curse the times — none can atone! 



418 



You sought each count, each court in vain — 
They thought your thought a mad man's brain. 
Such fools the fools can easy find ; 
But none so wise as Colon's mind. 



The traitors, trusted in their lies; 
Old Time their name forgets, defies. 
They chained thy limbs; but not thy mind; 
Thy match no where in lore I find. 



They lived to thee Columbus bright; 
And left thy land behind the night 
The night of ignorance and greed; 
And what to them has been their meed? 



419 



Two worlds all new, you them have left: 
Of worlds just two, they've been bereft- 
God's vengeance on a fallen race, 
Did thee mistreat; ay, to thy face. 



Your greatness, seen in your own day; 
And yet your meed, men did delay. 
Columbus, choice of ev'ry race. 
You stood with God — aye face to face. 



420 



To Rev. J. T.' and Mistress Crawford of Parsons.— Married 
Oct. 4, 1900. 

The day doth dawn so still and clear, 
It seems that God comes out to hear; 

He makes two hearts forever one 

And says to each, "My will be done." 



The dawn will great and greater grow, 
Like rivers that do ceaseless flow; 

Aye wider, deeper, till they reach 

The shining shore, the ocean's beach 



As rivers, restive, seek the main, 

And will on earth not long remain; 

Because their greater self in sea, 

Doth woo and win them from the lea; 



421 

(27) 



So you each hour in struggles stern, 

Will turn to Him from whom you learn 

That you are part of all that is; 
And you are always only His. 



Your lives are one as true as God, 
Hath placed His daisy in the sod; 

Your lives are one as sure as He 

Doth say to you, "Look up to Me. " 



As river hast'ning back to sea, 

Doth freshen flowers on the lea; 

So you while trav'ling on to light. 

Will make another's life more bright. 



422 



^be proMgal Son^^lDereue tbe 
proMgal Baugbter. 

THE SON. 

He aye was truant to that love, 

In mother found all from above. 

At twelve his home to tramp he left; 
Aye sad the parents so bereft. 



His father's money did prevail, 

To save his son from months in jail. 

His mother wept, but all in vain — 

Her son at home would not remain. 



At length he tired of his game; 

And homeward bent with tarnished name. 
His parents called his friends around, 

So glad to know their lost was found. 



And soon his voice the church choir fill 
With music sweet as flowing rill; 

And soon he married maiden sweet; 
Who almost worshipped at his feet. 



123 



His voice is] heard in senate bold; 

For why should he be left in cold? 
Why should his boyish, foolish part, 

Be target for the jealous dart? 



THE DAUGHTER. 

At sixteen sweet the daughter fell: 
And sad the tale for me to tell. 

She left her home for one brief day; 
And then came back so long to stay. 



Her mother met her with a frown; 

And black as night did grow the town, 
When passed she down its proudest street, 

Not one with smile did once her greet. 



At church the preacher shunned her side, 
Altho' he preached against all pride: 

And said that Christ had died to save, 
To snatch the sinner from the grave. 



424 



Proud ladies toss their heads most high, 

When this sweet girl by chance draws nigh. 

I wonder how He on them looks, 

Who keeps to-day the holy books? 



I wonder how he likes their pride, 
Who lifted Mary to his side; 

And all her sins at once forgive, 

That she for aye with him might live? 



Her home the burden of her life, 

At length becomes another's wife, 

The man she wed had children five, 
Was old enough for her arrive 



425 



At just conclusions always wise — 
His age could not see otherwise. 

She drest to suit an old man's whim; 
And saw in him her seraphim. 



'Tis well she pined away and died; 

And dwells with Christ once crucified. 
Go where she will can never find 

A world to her quite so unkind. 



426 



Uloman's Department 

2>oubI? 2)ea&. 

Suggested by a Poem on a Tombstone in a Graveyard in Old 
Mexico. 

I once was fair as lillies white; 

I once was queen of all this land. 

The first of that most brilliant band, 
The last my name on law to write. 



My father called me fairest fair; 

My sisters worshipped me indeed; 

My brothers sped for me with greed; 
With me the Prince, himself would pair. 



The day was set for us to wed; 

The missives flew thro' this great land; 

And opened were with trembling hand; 
For each might mean an arrow sped, 



Prom bow of wrath in hand of king, 

Whose word meant life or death to men; 
Or banishment to poisoned fen, 

Where love to them no bliss would bring. 



421 



We wed; and first I was admired; 

And homage from a thousand yields; 

But staunch my husband's love aye shields, 
In brilliancy I was attired. 



I sinned, I sought a sweeter place: 

So seemed the sin that severed me 
From love and life for aye to be. 

I found a love in other race. 



He came to court in early May; 

His face was fair and form had grace. 

Oh curse the day he found our place! 
O God why came that man this way? 



My subjects shunned me in the gate; 

My brothers looked on me in scorn; 

My mother wished I ne'er was born: 
My husband died of grief not late. 



428 



The men would leer and laugh at me: 

And spit upon me as I past. 

First loved a queen bnt mocked at last. 
O God I said, Shall this aye be? 



At length I fell beside a grave — 

It was the grave of him whose life 
He gave to me a faithless wife; 

It was the grave of one so brave, 



So kind, so pure, so true to me, 
Tho' vile I am I love him still; 
And would the days we passed by rill — 

But they to me can never be. 



Too vile for prayer when church bells ring; 

Too vile to die I dread my death; 

Too vile to breathe this dying breath; 
So vile I ne'er can see the King. 



429 



So vile that none e'er spoke to me, 

Since falling I have been for years; 
Alone I've shed my scalding tears; 

Alone my sisters let me be. 



Alone, I am out in the snow; 

It falls on rags in which I'm drest; 

It falls on grave where he's at rest; 
It falls on vile and pure below. 



I cannot ask my God forgive; 

And yet this mantle o'er us thrown. 
Doth seem that he hath closer grown; 

And seems to say, "You both may live." 



How beautiful the snow doth fall 

On him and me. O sweetest Death — 
Is it not thou that stops my breath? 

A voice so sweet now seems to call. 



430 



* 



A stone erect is lifted nigh 

The place where snow on two did fall; 

The place where voice to one did call — 
This place you stop and breathe a sigh. 



The slab her story tells to-day: 

' 'I once like you was fair and pure. 
Till sin did sever and allure; 

And guilt did drive from home away. 



You dead like me some day will be. 
Oh, live your life so pure and true, 
That bliss will bend from heaven blue; 

Aye shun the sin that severed me. ' ' 



431 



She had no children of her own; 

And yet like birds on tree were flown 
The orphans from the boundless sea, 

To find her home on prairie lea. 



Her thoughts on self were never found, 
As rainbows never found on ground: 

No selfish end she had to gain; 

But loved to banish others' pain. 



Her life like mountain in the vale, 
That rises far beyond the gale, 

Is crowned with heaven's glory form, 

Tho' down beneath doth rage the storm. 



Her forehead silvered over now, 
Is like a mountain's lofty brow 

Snow-capped to bless the vale below, 
On which sweet grasses ever grow 



432 



In harmony with all the earth, 

Her graces banish ev'ry dearth: 

Beside the dying she is found 

To lift his tho't beyond the ground. 



She nears the portals of that life, 

Which ends all useless, bitter strife; 

And, as she nears, she finds flung wide 
The gates where glory doth reside. 



The glory which her life doth fill, 
As light that dances over rill, 

Which widens, deepens on its way, 
As to the ocean forces sway. 



433 



Her life impelled by force within, 
Doth flow so smooth amid the din 

That's made by hammer on the gate, 

For wealth that fails or soon or late, 



Her life enrapt in glory round, 
Hath glory in another found: 

Her life encircled by his love. 

Brings glory down from Him above. 



434 



Miss Ollie is just sweet sixteen: 
So all her life doth lie between 

The now and then-how shall she spend 
The time from now until the end? 



When first she saw the light of day, 
She was in Springfield far away. 

It was in winter's midst, most cold, 

When she became more worth than gold. 



She first to Kansas bro't her name, 
Thus adding much to Kansas fame. 

In early spring she did us bring 

More glory than an earthly king. 



In Valley Mound she learned the ars, 

That make her life more bright than stars; 

For here she learned that ev'ry thought. 
Must be by toil and labor bought. 



435 



Her life is sweeter than her age; 

Because she never works for wage; 
But toils all day and half the night, 

To make dear mother's life more bright. 



The daisy lifts its sweetest form, 

To greet her just before the storm, 

That sweeps this land from sea to sea, 
.Doth take each daisy from the lea. 



Or, if her foot the daisy press. 

The daisy loves her none the less: 

But springhly springs again to place; 
And hopes next day to see her face. 



Old Sol doth rise each day to greet; 

And throws his glory round her feet. 
Each night for her his curtain strong, 

Doth drag both moon and star along. 



436 



For her each day the breezes blow; 

For her each day sweet lilhes grow: 
For her each day the bending bow, 

Declares 'tis one eternal noiv. 



For her each day is new begun; 

For her the Sun's great course is run: 
For her sweet Cupid doth his part; 

For her excels his sweetest art. 



Sweet Ollie's life is dawn of day — 

Her step's as light as fawn at play, 

On grassy slope of Southern hill, 

That's washed by Beauty's silver rill. 

O Ollie, life to you will be, 

The beauty you, yourself will see; 
It will be black with thunder cloud. 

Or light with rainbow you have found. 



437 

(28) 



fll>^ fiDotber* 

Who first bent o'er me in that day, 
When in my cradle I did stay 
As hopeless, helpless and as still, 
As heavy mist that drapes the hill? 
My Mother. 



Who watched me with abated breath; 
And listened long for fear that death, 
Hadta'en away her love in sleep 
To hide it in that unknown deep, 
Where darkest darkness reigns so well 
That never sun reveals a dell; 
And moon and star ne'er sweeps the space 
And Life, herself, can find no place 
To lay her head, hid by her curls; 
And so with sighs her flag unfurls. 
And, on her barque of silver sheen, 
She leaves the dismal damp unseen, 
To find the light to feel the day 
To hope, to live, to stay alway, 
In light and glory of that morn, 
Upon which never rises storm? 
My Mother. 



438 



Who taught my infant lips to say 
I will my God always obey? 
Who helped me with my lessons stern, 
When teacher said I would not learn? 
My Mother. 



Who taught me when I was sixteen; 
And felt that none must come between 
My plans and me; because I knew 
Far more than others as I grew 
With head as big as any two. 
Who taught me then how better do? 
My Mother. 



Who taught me when I learned to play 
Some games that kept me far away 
From truth, and life, and all that's good 
That great, and true who understood 
Life's battles stern, had found the harm 
Of wasting time; had ta'en alarm; 
And spent their youth on happy farm. 
And here their toil lent them the charm, 
That made the Lincolns ever true 
To live a life they never rue; 
That made the Garfields in their might 
To don the armor of the right; 



439 



That made the Dewey s on God's plan, 
And placed them ever in the van 
Of Right and Justice ever true; 
And found in front as wisdom grew? 
My Mother. 



Who laid her hand upon my brow, 
And banished fever's heat and glow, 
And nursed me back to life's sweet way, 
And urged me not again to stray? 
My Mother. 



Whom would I have in that dark hour, 
When standing'on that brink of power — 
The power of Death and dark and night 
I feel the force and know 'tis flight; 
My flight from life this poor world gives, 
But where my Savior ever lives? 
Whom would I have to hold my hand 
In dark and dismal awful land? 
My Mother. 



When guarded by the rainbow throne 
I would not stand by Christ alone; 
But would have mother share with me 
The bliss of all eternity. 



440 



Moman^ 

O woman ever since the race 

Did view our God aye face to face 

In Eden fair in day of May, 

Thou wert of hght, the lightest ray. 



Thou are so strong, so true, so pure; 

And dost our heaven aye allure. 
Thy mind as pure as driven snow, 

More fair than aughji on earth below. 



441 



IRelUe Pauline. 



A gentleman, Mr. M. C. Shipley in Oswego, asked the author 
one afternoon, when the latter Avas visiting Mr. T). V. Shipley's 
whether he could write a poem at any time and on any subject. The 
author said "Yes." Then said Mr. Shipley "Take for your subject 
my wife who is present." An attorney, Frank Brady, of Oswego, 
and a young lady from Ohio, were in the party. The author wrote 
the following: 



Miss Nellie Pauline from that state 

Where all are sJiown before their fate, 

Is sealed for aye in wedlock true, 

Lest they some day may learn to rue 



The tie they tied with tongue so strong. 
That time or tide or trouble long, 

Can sever never during life, 

However bitter be the strife. 



442 



Miss Pauline was in college reared; 

And there, as womanhood she neared, 
She learned to know the good and true; 

And jilted many who still rue. 



This girl' was fair as fair could be; 

And yet would cry, "Unhappy me. " 
But why this state of things you ask — 

To tell you this is all my task. 



You know in life there's naught alone 
A heart for heart must aye atone: 

The eye, the ear, must mated be; 
And so each life must lover see. 



This girl was sad as sad could be, 

Till she her Monie's face did see: 

Her heart in loneliness was stung. 
Till Monie at her door bell rung. 



443 



Till sure of love she was aye weak; 

But strong became when he did speak. 
Now Mooney aye was bright as boy; 

But Pauline much increased his joy. 



At first his visits seemed most brief; 

But always bro't her great relief: 
At length they stretched; yet ever seemed 

The hours were more than well redeemed. 



This couple felt the parting pain ; 

And hence would long with each remain. 
The time sped by with awful pace, 

While looked they each in other's face. 



One blissful hour they planned that day, 
That should to them be ever May, 

With blossoms on the orchard trees; 
And Winter begging on his knees. 



444 



Old Time dragged on his length'ning chain, 
Till each his other self did gain: 

It was a day, the fairest fair, 

When Love enthroned this happy pair. 



Sweet Cupid made a chain not late; 

And led them thro' the Lover's Gate, 
To where a ship did 'bide the tide, 

On which they ever since do ride. 



The tide swells high, no storm is nigh — 
Their life they live without a sigh; 

The furrow even they do plow; 
To them 'tis one eternal now. 



Their ship plows thro' the deepest blue, 
While throws life's rainbow all her hue, 

Upon this pair who love so well. 

That followed are by marriage bell. 



445 



Bent o'er Life's Stream the roses blow, 
While swift the waters ever flow, 

To bear our barque by flow 'ry lea, 

They pass -at last to unknown sea. 



We fail to follow thro' life's maze; 

For pass they out beyond the haze, 
Where glories on the waters fall; 

And Cupid still on them doth call. 



Their barque is gone beyond oar sight. 
And comes to us dread endless night; 

For Monie us no Pauline left; 

And we indeed are now bereft. 



Poor Frank seems saddest in the throng. 

While 'guiles the time with laugh and song, 

To make appear that he's quite glad; 
Tho' deep in heart he is quite sad. 



446 



Till now he has resisted well 

Great Cupid's mighty, magic spell — 
He bears that lost and loving look, 

Which comes by watching Cupid's hook. 



He knows full well our Monie's bliss, 

And says: "This world I'd give for this. 

When I can marry, yet be free, 
I will not a bachelor be." 



He knows a lady from the north. 

Who makes his talents shine well forth; 
For we do best when we admire; 

And when inspired never tire. 



Some time I think it will be well; 

And seems I hear the marriage bell. 
Old Buckeye State has aye well done; 

But ne'er did know a brighter one. 



447 



IRana- 

Her life is free as flows the rill 

In forest deep- where all is still; 

As brook is drawn to ocean wide, 

Her life doth aye for Christ decide. 



As brook is bent to ocean blue 

It ne'er forgets the flower true, 

Which lingers long in leafy dell, 

Where soft the sound of waters fell. 



So Nana, drawn by love to God, 

Doth not forget who tread the sod, 

To face the foe w^hose fiercest hate. 

Would drive us all from Mercy's gate. 



448 



Her life doth linger in that light, 

Which is the same for clay or night. 

Her home is heaven here below; 

Because her Christ doth crown her brow. 



Sweet Nana's life and love are pure: 

So she to heaven doth allure 
The light that lingers in her face. 

Comes down from God's own Holy place. 



Her life, enrapt in glory form, 

Is fair as rainbow after storm. 

Her life is light with heaven's might; 
Her life she lives in heaven's light. 



449 



^( 



II Coul^ mot Call Iber fiDotber." 



She was as fair as fair could be, 

When first her face was seen by me; 

Ay, queen of beauty in this land, 

With form as blithe as willow wand. 



Her hand as white as lilies grow, 

Did clasp my own as cold as snow; 

Her eyes a match for heaven's blue, 
Bespoke a life she could not rue. 



Her face all radiant in love, 

Revealed a life as true as dove, 

Once sent across a boundless moor. 
To find at length an open door. 



No smile of welcome on my face, 
I seemed as rooted to my place; 

My lips seemed locked for aye the same 
To her who took my mother's name. 



-^50 



At length her lips were dumb as mine, 
Did she so young my tho't divine? 

At last she sought sweet solitude — 
I wondered if she tho't me rude. 



"I could not call her mother, " dear; 

I felt that one was ever near, 
To whom that name for aye belonged, 

Tho' all the world sweet faces thronged. 



My father stood so stern, severe; 

And seemed to say, "Why not revere 
The one I bring from college new 

The envied now of not a few." 



Long years have sped — I change not yet, 
The past so dear can I forget? 

Can I call this my mother dear, 

While mother's voice each day I hear? 



451 



fIDeetinQ fIDotber in Ibcaven* 

Written by the author on learning that his mother had died 
December 15, 1899, in England. 

When standing" face to face with God 
On shore bright angels aye have trod, 
May Mother be the first to greet 
Me, as I kneel at Jesus' feet. 



When clinging close to rainbow grace, 
May light from Christ reveal her face. 
When voice my own begins in fear, 
May Mother's voice be sweet and clear. 



When fearful lest my praise is wrong, 
May Mother help me in the song; 
So that the tho't of angels be 
Drawn aye to Christ and not to me. 



452 



When gaze I on celestial might 
Till throb and ache does my new sight, 
May Mother take me by the hand; 
And lead me in that lovely land 



To place where light's -like moon-lit dell: 
So soft and sweet where all is well. 
When learn I something ever new 
Prom Him who came to save not few; 



When I gaze on the Crucified; 
.And lo! Behold Him glorified! 
When find my eyes the pierce ""d feet; 
And know the smile that doth me greet, 



Then may my Mother bear with me 
The bliss that brings eternity; 
And may with me she ever dwell. 
In place where all is ever well. 



453 

(29) 



Deaf ant) Buinb^ 

All day in silence sat our little one; 
Her face expressed her fear, her hope, her joy; 
Her smile so sweet aye said, "Thy will be done." 
For God had taught her tell the gold, alloy. 
We watched her play and toss her latest toy; 
We watched in vain her lips to utter sound; 
We tried in vain to make her hear our voice. 
At last as days dragged on the truth we found, 
Our little one's voice would never make us rejoice. 



She was like other children; and yet not: 

True, daughter of the earth she was like them; 

Unlike them nursling of sky, she forgot 

Her humble origin as if the hem, 

Of dress once worn by Christ whose diadem, 

He laid aside to bear the human yoke. 

Was touched by her and all her nature changed; 

For seemed above her heaven ever broke; 

And to her inmost soul's yearnings God ever spoke. 



454 



For, as the drop of rain has birth on earth; 
And yet uphf ted by the sun may form 
A bow of glory heaven to engirth, 
A promise beautiful to succeed the storm; 
So she did grow into Christ transform; 
And bears that glory only heaven knows. 
This glory, given her and shed around 
Life's pathway, paved the way for her where 

blows 
The stream of life, bearing her on till Christ is 

found. 



455 



^oinaiV6 Swa?. 



The men aye sat and smoked and talked, 
Till thro' their midst two ladies walked: 
And then a silence hushed and deep, 
As if the world was hid in sleep. 



Two ladies with their an.^el face; 
Two ladies stept to Virtue's grace; 
Two ladies and ten men do hush; 
Two ladies sighted and Jim's "Tush I" 



456 



Two ladies pass adown the glen; 
Two ladies stop the talk of ten; 
Two ladies pass beyond the night; 
Two ladies bring all heaven's light. 



Two ladies made our Lincoln bold; 
True Washington, as pure as gold: 
The wife and mother in our land, 
Will make us naught, or great and grand. 



457 



flDi? flDotber'0 l&iblc. 



The late Mrs. Ammezetta Johnson, died April 29, 1900, at her 
home, Edna, Kansas, and leaves ten children who know her life had 
touched divinity. 

To her there was no book but one, 
By which she knew God's will was done 
In life, in death, in joy, in pain — 
In Christ to- day she doth remain. 



She taught us all that blesse^d Book; 
So that we still to her do look, 
Altho' in heaven she doth dwell, 
With Him she loved on earth so well. 



How oft to her / read that book — 
Ah! yet I see her heaven-look, 
Itself a benediction true, 
As God, himself, beyond the blue. 



Her Bible day by day she grasped — 
Ah! fond the hands that hers aye clasped 
At home, abroad, in church she toiled; 
And thus the arts of Satan foiled. 



458 



Her life so pure that others drew, 
Who kept in her their God in view : 
To them the blesse'^d light she brought, 
Which she herself of Christ had sought. 



Her life to-day is brighter far 

Than shines the cold and glitt'ring star, 

That hovers on the brow of day, 

Till driven far from sight away. 



The light she shed is in each mind, 
Of those who knew her more than kind. 
Of those whose mem'ry still entwine, 
Around the loved who was divine. 



Her children still can feel that light, 
Which banished aye their darkest night. 
Her children still can hear her voice, 
That made their lives each day rejoice. 



459 



Her children feel her hand so light, 
That soothed away their endless night. 
Her children know that step so well, 
Which yet doth hold by magic spell. 



She made our home a heaven-place- 
Por heaven bro't she in her face 
To us in joy or pain severe — 
To-day we all her name revere. 



To-day she lives in Christ her king; 
To-day to Him she others bring; 
To-day she lives with us in love, 
Altho' enthroned with God above. 



460 



^be Morlt) ant) Moman* 

That star which clings with less'ning ray, 

To usher in the glory day, 
Doth throw, beyond the hill, her beam; 

And sets her image in yon stream. 



The sun his silv'ry arrows send. 

To show where he the day would spend. 
Each day a wedge atween two nights, 

A space for kindness, or for slights. 



A woman, trembling, takes her way- 
Her life has left its days of May- 
One step astray, a girl she bore: 
And hope is gone forever more. 



The world's grim frown, the church's hate; 

And forced perhaps from father's gate. 
Where shall a woman weep, reform? 

Where hide her life from passing storm? 



461 



A passing storm ? Alas ! Not so — 
The storm will come but never go\ 

Each day to her is dreaded night. 

Each day brings her the blackest blight. 



O God with woe out-thundered voice, 
How can the angels aye rejoice? 

How can we now but spell-bound stand, 
With such injustice in our land? 



A day must»come, this wrong and hate, 
Must banished be from heaven's gate. 

The day must come when men shall know, 
There is one God above, below. 



462 



Z\)c Monberful auD Moman* 

He was a Guest at rich repast, 

When one came in, the very last, 

We should expect^ at such a place. 

The one to-day, denied God's grace: 



A woman who had once mis-stept, 

Fell down at Jesus' feet and wept. 

She washed with tears her Savior's feet; 
And cared not she tho' frowns did greet. 



She used the ointment she had brought; 

To honor Jesus, whom she sought. 
Her tresses fine she downward drew, 

And wiped Christ's feet in Simon's view. 



Grim Simon, Pharisaic host, 

Did chafe like ship upon the coast, 
Storm- tossed and gored on ev'ry side, 

Tho' late she was the ocean's pride. 



463 



He tho't ' 'How can this guest of mine, 

A prophet be with claim divine; 
And yet not know this woman bad, 

Whose absence would make me twice glad." 



Our Savior, Simon did divine; 

And said: "This woman is of mine 

All pardoned of her sinful life- 
She now has part in holy strife. 



Her care of Me shames your neglect; 

Such treatmeut I should not expect 
Of you — no water, my toilet make; 

No ointment for my head you take. 



This woman wins eternal fame. 

While you shall know undying shame. 
This woman is a child of mine; 

And all like Me, she is divine." 



464 



Slave Department 

j^*' c3* 6?^ 

Solt) Ibie ®wn ffiloot)- 

He stood upon the cabin floor; 

And closed behind the latchless door: 
He could not look her full in face 

Who saw himself within her grace; 



For his that form so blithe and true; 

And his the eye of darkest blue; 
Aye his the ruby lip so fair; 

All his except the ebon hair. 



How could the master sell this slave, 
And hope retain beyond the grave? 

Why not sell noiv and then repent? 

His face relaxed — should he relent? 



465 



The slaver waited with his gold; 

And pushed his claim with visage bold. 
He said, ' 'My gold is ready now 

Give me the girl with broadest brow. " 



He did not heed the slaver's voice; 

But struggled with that dreadful choice 
^'How can I send away from me 

This girl I never more shall see? 



She is my own and that God knows, 
As sure as water downward flows, 

How can I drive her from my home. 

Beneath this blue and bending dome? 

But then there is that mortgage due— 
O God this curse I daily rue — 

O Orval, sweet you are to me; 

Yet from this hour you're naught to me." 



466- 



The slaver cried, ''I must away; 

Yon moon is high I cannot stay: 
My barque is anchored in the moor — 

From here you see my cabin door. 



Just chain your beauty by my side — 
Prom now she aye will be my pride. 

My gold is pJenty — all you asked: 

My purpose ne'er to you was masked." 



Her wrist so fair is chained to him, 

Whose gold had made him seraphim. 

The twain adown the glen did pass — 
O crime of crimes how sad, alas ! 



The night grew black to him apace, 
Who never since saw Orval's face. 

He paid his mortgage as he hoped; 

But since with God has ever coped. 



467 



His lands aye flooded in the spring — 
It was the wrath of heaven's King. 

His slaves escaped him one by one; 

And left him poor, a wretch undone. 



At length sweet Orval's beauty sold 

To one who cared not aught for gold, 

Who called her to his side one day; 

And said, ''I'll send you far away," 



She trembling fell before his face: 

"O master grant me of your grace; 

If I have been a sinful slave, 

Then slay; and send me to my grave. 



You have me drest as fair as queen; 

My life is bright as silver sheen, 
That's stretched across the cloudless sky, 

When morning bright the night defy. 



468 



O master, let me see your face 

And drive me not to Southern place, 
So long I've lived and loved you well 

Your presence knows a magic spell." 



Sweet Orval read this paper well 

"Will see how great my magic spell. 

You'll find you've been redeemed as slave; 
So rise you 're free this side the grave. 



You know the grave beneath the hill, 
Where flows the brooklets silver rill; 

You know my heart was buried deep, 

Where past the willows waters sweep. 



If love for love belongs to me, 

Your home is here and you are free. 
If love for love you cannot give, 

Your life is yours where'er you live. 



469 
(30) 



^be Slave Trin60l&. 

The night was dark and drear, 
As grave of Indian chief hid in shade 
In cypress wood and hastened as 'twas made, 

By those who dropt no tears 
For their dark chief whose life and latest breath, 
Were spent to keep them from the -jaws of death. 



Yet fierce the foe came on; 
And found that funeral train hard by shade; 
Then clash of arms and whir of arrows made 

That brave band sink till one, 
Only had breath to tell the place where lay 
His chief in cypress shade so far away. 



So dark was that drear night 
When this one, old and bent and heart-broken, 
Remembered bitterly none had spoken 

To him unless in slight 
At morn or noon or night that weary day; 
And now his pride that had borne him gave way. 



470 



Then rests his weight on chain 
So ponderous, methinks it fell to lot 
Of men most desperate who quite forgot 

Dear Virtue's very name, 
Had murdered the king who once set them free; 
And changed their slaves' badge for his livery. 



But see! a flash! alight! 
'Tis borne by two adown the dreary street, 
Who stops a moment that pinched face to greet 

"O heavens what a sight! 
A slave so mean that none would bid to-day; 
And night is here with master far away." 



These few words were uttered 
By one whose fair young face was clouded now. 
As wrath in him was shown by low'ring brow. 

"Hark! what's that he muttered?" 
"It matters but little," said the other: 
"He's too far gone to know his own mother." 



471 



He feels, knows or heeds not: 
Again he's silent as guilt before doom; 
Or corpse that sleeps for aye in its long home. 

He will soon be forgot. '' 
"Forgot? no Father, not while I shall live; 
And if that slave die God will ne'er forgive." 



That is sheer madness, Bert; 
For God himself a difference doth make 
Between negro and white, there's no mistake; 

For they make no effort 
From age to age to better their own lot; 
Or else this curse would die and be f orsrot. ' ' 



The son looked stern and grave, 
Till from his belted side he whistle drew, 
Whose blast so loud and long bro't into view 

Two slaves as dark as cave 
At midnight who stood mute as mist on hill, 
Before the sun sends gale o'er dale and rill. 



472 



Then speaks that son to sire; 
You know estate I hold from birth in right 
My own since May the last when in the might 

Of age I found desire, 
So long been pent up in heart of mine to free 
This land of curse more vile than hell's decree. 



The time's not yet to free; 
But time is now to aid and bless a slave, 
Who clings enchained to clod so close to grave. 

One step and he will be, 
Where curse or crown or weal or woe comes not; 
And where all except our crime is forgot. 



But ere he goes I ought 
Show kindness due him to him such as God, 
Would have me show to one who's under rod, 

That is divinely wrought, 
For good by us not yet quite understood; 
Because 'tis swayed by Him we call, The Good. 



473 



IF promieet) not to tell flDaeeig. 

The manse had mustered all her force in hall 
To hit upon a plan to find the escaped, 
Whose flight the kindest night she ever knew, 

Had covered so well the hounds failed and failed. 



They traced her to the stream that sped swift by. 
And here discouraged turned again, again; 
Then sneaked like guilt back to the yard in 
manse 

When their master furious sent them back. 



And so the hall great was packed with servants 
Free; slaves alas! that never should be free; 
Among the slaves was Tom, staunch, stalwart, 
true; 

His form his face, the finest of his race, 



474 



Commanded attention in any crowd: 

And bids for Tom had ever been most loud; 
Because his giant strength no failure knew, 

And his black brothers hated him for this. 



But one there was who hated him the most; 
Because that Jane before she had escaped, 
Had shown she much preferred staunch Tom 
to him; 

And now the time had come for vengeance, 

sweet. 



And so Jim's voice, not round, and full, and true; 
But weak, and harsh, and sneaky like himself , 
Cried out in answer to the master's quest; 

"If massy let me I think I can tell." 



"Then tellj" yelled the master in his fury, 

Said Jim, "Please let me see you in secret; 
For I dusn't tell you all I know here now," 

And so the two to private room withdrew. 



475 



A long time from then the master returned; 

And when he left he took with him staunch 
Tom. 

As soon as door was closed behind the twain, 
The master turned to Tom and thus he spoke: 



"Now Tom some time since you were converted; 

And since then you have been another man; 

May be you don't know, but the Bible says: 
'Servants in subjection to master be.' 



I know you know when and where Jane has gone. 
If you just tell I'll give you a new place, 
Where all the rest must knuckle well to you; 

But if you fail to tell there is the lash. 



And Jim is not an idler at such work; 

And you '11 be bound as you have often seen 
I 'spose you have not yet forgot the girl, 

We flogged not more than thirty days ago. ' ' 



476 



And then, eyeing Tom the master waited. 
So after a long pause Tom made reply: 
I promised, massy I would never tell; 

And come what will, massy, I'll keep my word. 



So Tom was taken out, bound hand and foot; 
And while he helpless lay upon the ground. 
His flesh quivered under the cruel lash, 

In hand of Jim whose base envy failed him; 



And fear of God and judgment possessed him; 
So that again and yet again he asked, 
Of Tom that he would pardon him his crime 

And Tom's kind words: "You are not to blame, 
Jim." 



Cut even Jim's heart as diamond will glass; 
And bitterly did he remember then 
How he divulged the truth to master stern. 

And even the master's wrath almost failed, 



477 



One instant while Tom to him kindly spoke 
Of life and liberty and true judgment, 
In land so fair to all that slaves are free; 

And truth, and hope, and faith will aye abide: 



The instant passed and all the savage came 

To him with double power to urge the work, 
That hell itself would blush to entertain; 

And so the sun went down and all was dark. 



But yet poor Jim kept on his awful task; 

Till found the Christ thro' Tom's most noble 
faith ; 

And then the lash did cease to cut the air; 
For Jim resolved to die with Tom that day. 



The other slaves forgot all but Tom's care 
Of them in cotton fields in days agone; 
And flocked around to help in misery. 

The master forced by these at length gave way. 



478 



But kindness from all had come all too late; 
For on that very night that kind angel, 
"We call Death relieved Tom of pain and life; 

And kind were they who laid him down to rest. 



No mound, no mark, no massive stone stood mute 
To show the spot where martyred Tom has 

found 
That rest denied to him and all his race, 
While his great life dragged on his length'ning 
chain. 



'Tis well no seal, no sign, no symbol serves 
To point the place where pansies, God's 

planting 
Declare divine devotion to that one, 

Denied the right to live and think and act. 



479 



ministers' DeDartment 

(^W 6^^ C^^ 

Clear anb Clean. 

O Class of Christ, ye count no cost, 

When sent to seek and save the lost; 

O Class of Christ, the noblest race, ■■ 
That bears God's image in its face. 



O Class of Christ, you find in flock, 

Some men far meaner than the pock; 

Some oily-tongued deceitful thief, 
Will pray to give himself relief. 



You must needs hear this vile wretch pray, 
And dare not him a moment stay; 

Because your mission is all love, 

And act you must as sweet as dove. 



480 



O Class of Christ, you lose your lives, 
When seek to save in darkest dives. 

You leave your lives in love and lost; 
You leave your love to love at cost. 



O Class of Christ, you carry cross; 

For Duty drags you down to dross, 
Where gleams of gold the good life gives 

To teach this truth: "The Truth aye lives." 



O Class of Christ, ye care to cure 

The stubborn soul, the sick allure 

To heaven's health and hope and joy. 
Where vices virtues ne'er annov. 



O trusted, truthful, travel- tired; 

iSTo price is paid for parts retired 
From gain and greed and grasp of gold — 

And yet you go in Christ's name bold. 



481 



You fear no foe, tho' fierce his hate; 

But ope to him the mercy-gate. 
O Class of Christ ye count no care, 

Except that heathen better fare. 



O Class of Christ, how much you give; 

That men may better their lives live. 
O Class of Christ, ye are the light, 

That keeps our world from endless night. 



You stand so still on solid ground; 

For none like you this world has found. 
The worldly wise his wealth doth win, 

While heathen lives in blackest sin. 



482 



But you have left the world behind; 

Aud died to self to bless mankind, 
You fought that foe, called self within; 

And conquered ev 'vj form of sin. 



You take your place in pulpit mild: 

You trust the Truth; aye God's own child. 
You trust the Truth; and try to turn 

Men's hopes and hearts to holy burn. 



Your future, found aye first in land, 

Where God doth guide with gracious Hand 

In rainbow glory by the throne, 

Where One doth sit for aye atone. 



483 



^be fIDinieter in Ibie Stubi?^ 

The day was dark and drear and lone: 

It seemed that God had left his throne: 

The clouds came crowding from the west, 
Each destined never to find rest. 



The preacher sat in study small, 

O'er matched the gJoom that covered all; 
I 've tried the rule for five long years, 

My hopes are dashed; but not my fears. 



The Golden Rule fails on the gold; 

And leaves us duped out in the cold. 
I've spent my money on the church; 

And now they've left me in the lurch. 

I can't believe that Christ was right; 

Altho' he marshaled heaven's light, 
Oq all his tho't to make it clear, 

It does not work to-day I fear. 



484 



For five long years I've spent my all, 
And have obeyed each urgent call; 

And all were urgent now I know — 

They seemed each year to greater^grow. 



God knows mij gifts have been too small; 

And yet last year excelled them all: 
Nay more was more than all combined; 

And so the church I have declined. 



Why should I toil that I may fail — 
Nine-tenths at least will not avail 

Themselves of chance to hold the light 
To keep a wi^^ht from endless night. 



I've tried to live what I do preach; 

But all in vain for them I teach. 
I will not spend my life in vain; 

I will not long with them remain. 



485 
(31) 



Last year four men in office bold, 
Agreed to pay my stinted gold. 

How little cared these Christian ( ? ) men. 
Less honor than the men in pen. 



And yet for years these men I trained; 

And have my tempter aye refrained. 
To-day my pay is in. arrear; 

And will be so this day a year. 



The brewers do as they agree, 

With men behind the bars or free; 

But Christian's honor — they have none! 
And yet they claim the blameless One. 



For years I've toiled within the jail; 

And find men there who will avail 
Themselves of Christ the living king. 

And what they have to Him they bring. 



486 



But members of the church! O God! 

Do any walk so mean on sod? 
They lie and steal each other's name; 

But ne'er they think they are to blame. 



* 



Just then the bell with vigor rung; 

And wide his door was open swung; 
Then soon were seated persons grave, 

Who came to tell the tidal wave, 



That had befallen him of late, 

While felt the gloom at hells own gate, 
Around his path as dark as night, 

A man plague-struck by heaven's blight. 



487 



They told their story quick and brief, 
Which bro't to him such sweet relief; 

Because it taught that naught is vain, 
And God on earth doth yet remain. 



One told the tale for all the rest: 

"Your work with us has aye been blest; 
Since you with us your life do share, 

We will with you our all now fare. 



We know your love for us is true; 

So we your coming never rue. 
Go work and toil as suits your will; 

We will your life with blessings fill. 



488 



The members now do show their love. 

As faithful as was Noah's dove; 
Then worldly men are true as steel, 

And with their money show they feel. 



Go work, go toil, and study still; 

And may your life be smooth as rill, 
That sweeps apast the willow bent, 

Whose tint to it the sun has lent. 



At length the preacher left alone, 

Decides that God is on His throne; 

And filled with shame to think that he, 
A judge on earth should claim to be. 



489 



^be (Breat (Quartette* 

The great quartette has not yet 

Gone out for game, and not gained fame. 
On Monday last in surry past, 

Out of the town without a frown; 
But filled with hope, that each would cope, 

With those who dwell in dale or dell. 



Arrived in woods they hide their goods, 
In certain place, and then they face 

The forest tall, where all^must fall — 
No quarter shown, but to the flown, 

That poised in air beyond the care 

Of man or beast, who fain would feast 

On their swift limbs borne up by wings. 



Sickles went out without a doubt 
Soon he did bring a squirrel in; 

For his aim true makes rodant rue 

That he was born, Sickles's to scorn. 



490 



Yet Longs tons bime in this good rhyme, 

Is not too late to tell the fate, 
Of four that fell and cannot tell 

How foul the play which made them lay, 
So still and dead in blood as red, 

As maidens blush in that first hush, 
Which comes to all, when Love doth call 

For a reply, while Hope stands by. 



Then Ross was seen thro' leafy screen. 
Selecting game to bring him fame. 

As he came in engirth to chin, 

With fruit that fell in leafy dell. 

Glad did we feel this foeman's steel, 
Tho' but a lance did well advance 

The cause of right, for which we fight. 



On grassy ground the poet found. 

In heaven's blue, tho'ts not a few. 

From Him who lent as o'er us bent 

Our hearts of steel that we might feel 

The might of God on Kansas sod. 



491 



Zbc fllMnietere' picnic. 

They sat on bank of creek Labette, 

Who once had been the Great Quartette; 

They watched the water in the rill, 

Where huno" their bait so dead and still. 



This Great Quartette had richer grown, 

Since months but five had past them flown; 

For then che}^ all had wives but three; 
And now the}^ all had wives but me. 



Two wives shot game upon the stream — 
The game was dead in sunlit gleam- 

The game]was dead before they fired; 
Or else it must ere long have tired; 



For rare they seemed to hit the game, 
Tho' staj^ed it near as if quite tame; 

Their gun they rested on a tree, 

While shots did waste both full and free. 



492 



The first to bring a fish to lea, 

From that great throbbing endless sea, 
Was Bishop Ross who did engage 

His son on fish that lashed in rage. 



The sea soon frothed on every side, 
As circling foam on land did ride; 

At length the fish on land did coil, 

Where three with hook did honest toil. 



The fish just now aroused from sleep; 

And did our baits suspicious peep. 
Then Philo and Aldrich came; 

And with good bait secured much game. 



But new these men and deep in love, 

They searched the heavens blue above, 

To bring us bait that sped on wing; 

That we for fish might have our fling. 



493 



As some lone star apart doth dwell, 
So Mistress Ross was hid in dell; 

And ne'er in vain her line did tbrow; 
For fish did bait above, below. 



When gained much game Mistress' Aldrich 
And Philo the ground enrich, 

With viands plenty tho' so rare. 

That kings in east ne'er so well fare. 



The grass] ess ground for table spread; 

Thro' leafy screen broke blue o'er head 
The sardine, sauce, and cliicken stew, 

On which Earls, D wains, Raymonds grew. 



Now when the time to us comes back 

Stern game on Richardson 's fair place, 

We hope to hook good fish fifteen: 

And have no losses come between. 



494 



^be Sivlne anb Borian, tbe Beacon's 

Baugbter* 

The preacher was both young and brave, 

And came to us from over wave: 
His hands were white as driven snow; 

He ne'er had worked on earth below. 



His form was straight as arrow sent 

From bow of steel whose force was s^jent, 

In driving true the missile deep 

To heart of deer upon the steep. 



His eyes had looked thro' heaven blue; 

His mien was lit with heaven true; 
His hair had borrowed golden light, 

In land whose day has banished night. 



He was six foot, aye slightly more, 

And came to us with bliss in store; 

For sent of God how could he fail, 
On saint and sinner to prevail? 



495 



Then too he had in college spent, 

Long years where ages many lent 

Their lustrous light from men of might, 
Who taught him how his battles fight. 



In spirit sweet as Jesus bore. 

When brought to earth He heaven's lore; 
For which men nailed him to the tree, 

Thus curst the Chris fc who made them free. 



The church curst Christ he had been taught. 
And priests with schemes from hell were 
fraught; 

But he must learn all men forgive, 
And near his Savior ever live. 



The church to which this young man came, 
Had long since lost its mighty fame, 

Tho' many men both great and small, 
Had left their place in college hall 



496 



To fill the pews if so they might 

Drive out that demon, endless night 

By soothing saint and sinner start, 
Lest all in hell should bear a part. 



At first the church these men would hear, 

While down their cheek would start the tear: 

But soon or late the truth was known, 
This preacher had most awful grown. 



His gestures were not up to date; 

Or stories soured on him of late; 
Or voice not pleasant to the ear. 

And hence the deacons all did fear 



The debt that grew each day apace, 

Would meet them ever face to face: 

So that they would repudiate 

And seal for aye the preacher's fate. 



497 



One came from city in the north; 

But soon the church did drive him forth- 
No script or purse to weigh him down, 

He sought a sit in other town. 



He brought a letter when he came 

To show that once he had good name. 

This church refused a letter new 

Thus forced him from their awful view 



No purse within, no price without, 

The world to him was filled with doubt. 

He sought and sought but sought in vain 
To find a place he could remain. 



At last he found the county farm, 

Where safe he lives from all alarm- 

The church his money did not pay; 
And kept his letter far away. 



At length there came, as has been writ, 
A man who seemed by learning fit 

To fill a pulpit any place, 

To look the saints right in the face. 



This man was young without a wife. 

So soon the air was filled with strife; 

For Dorian, the Deacon's child. 

Was sweet on men and awful wild. 



She marriage had upon the brain, 

And single could not long remain; 

Tho' vowed was she to ever stay 
From nuptials far, so far away: 



Because she oft had tried and failed, 
She told this man she had prevailed 

On ' 'papa' ' send her way, way off 

To learn in school so none could scoff. 



499 



Instead of hastening his suit, 

He acted worse than any bruit; 

E'en urged her go without delay, 

And train to toil for such good pay. 



Her father urged this young man wed 
Thus end for aye the life he led: 

For man he said should never teach, 
Till wife he had to help him preach. 



The mother praised her pie and cakes; 

And said, " 'Tis Dore all these makes. 
And, Dore can a house well keep ; 

And drive. a horse up hill most steep." 



These plans all failed and this young man, 
Was cold in year as when began 

To preach in place where deacon's child, 
Had failed to make his pulses wild. 



500 



At last the deacon told this man: 

* 'It has been seen since you began, 

Your voice and gesture might be taught 

By plans M/ith which my Dore's fraught. 



Just come each week and take your place 
With Dore, meet her face to face: 

No one needs know but you and us; 
And so you see there'll be no fuss. 



Now Dore has been loved of all; 

And you had better on her call. 
Her farm contains a splendid mine; 

Her face and form, you see divine. 



You need not fear while I have wealth, 
Tho' you have not the best of health; 

Your learning will be ever new — 

Your matched by only just a few." 



501 

(32) 



Then Dore did her books obtain; 

And try this student to retain. 
By study long, aye hard and deep, 

She climbed to reach that rocky steep, 



Where wisdom sits serene and high; 

And naught but Truth need e'er draw nigh; 
But soon of wisdom she did tire, 

And left her books — maybe in fire. 



And then she very angry grew, 

So spoke not she when full in view 

This student met upon the street; 

And then again she would him greet. 



The deacon too became quite mad; 

And said such fool he never had. 
He said: "/called him to this church; 

And now he leaves me in the lurch." 



502 



This young divine seemed not to care 
How deacon's daughter Dore fare. 

He aye was kind to one and all; 

And made' each flock a pastor's call. 



He tho't not on this giddy girl, 

Whose brain was in one ceaseless whirl 
To seal for aye some poor man's fate, 

Before for her it was too late. 



The deacon said: "This thing's too slow. 

I'll put an end to all this show: 
For in the fall his money's due; 

And -on pay-day I'll make him rue. 



I'll lessen my subscription now; 

And then next year get out somehow 
This vain young man, we gave a call; 

And thus I'll cause his head to fall. 



503 



Next year I'll see he's much behiud; 

For then his wages he will tiud 
Unpaid with prospects very blue, 

For him to whom I have been true." 



So down this man's subscription fell 
But sad! oh sad it is to tell 

That money came from ev'ry score. 
Far i^rreater than it had before. 



The city sent its dollars bright 

And said, "Your preacher is alright; 

This year we'll double from our till, 

And will this preacher's purse well fill. " 



The women who went out to gain 

This wealth ne'er spent a day in vain; 

For God was ever on their side 

To sway men's mind, tho' filled with pride. 



504 



The deacon, smooth-tongued oily thief, 
Who ne'er had come to their relief, 

Stood up in House of God to pray 

That God would help all men to pay 

Their dues to him who was a slave 

To God that he might somehow save 

From wrath of God the sinners all, 
Who failed on him for help to call. 



Meanwhile the deacon edged his way 
Snake-like to those who gather pay 

For young divine who had been called, 

By some who wished they had black-balled. 



505 



He said to them: "Do you not fear 

This mail's too high for us to hear? 

He is so learned I fear we can 

Not keep so great, so good a man. 



There are much cheaper men in store 
We can obtain for ever more; 

And then this man doth not believe 
In Christ as I was taught receive/' 



He lied and lied, but all in vain; 

For preacher doth with us remain. 
"We hope he'll stay for many year 

In spite of Crocodile's hard tear. 



506 



The girl is gone away from us; 

And married not in spite of fuss, 
She made to gain great Hymen's gift- 

No cloud for her doth ever lift. 



The father sits at home to sigh; 

But to his home no son draws nigh; 
And false as false can be is life, 

When hopes are spent in useless strife. 



The mother feels the sting of pain, 

Which comes to one whose life is vain: 

For hopes were all on Dore laid, 
But she alas has never paid. 



507 



Z\)c prcacbera poverty. 

He had been flush in days of yore, 
And had his friends forever more; 
But now the young did criticize — 
They were far wiser than the Wise. 



He had helped build this very church, 
Which in old age left him in lurch: 
Thro' life he nailed his colors high; 
But then his God seemed ever nigh. 



The church was torn in endless strife- 
He'd rather live a banished life, 
Than hold the helm in such a state, 
As seemed his church all time of late. 



508 



They hated now his hoary head; 
And stinted him on very hread, 
They cried each day, ''Resign! Resign!" 
No reason just, they could assign. 



He bowed his head to one benign. 
And then he said, "I will resign;" 
His face alit with heaven's lighc, 
He passed to God, who knows no night. 



509 



Cblldren's Department 

^SF^ ^fi^ ^s^ 

ttbe ]fir0t Bai? at ScbooL 

Sam Search was roused one day from bed; 

And by his sister Sarah led 
To master, Knowledge, over way, 

Who works and works for little pay. 



He stayed with Sarah all the morn, 

But wished himself in father's corn; 

The things he saw soon grew so old, 

He wished with lambs he'd staved in fold. 



510 



''flDamma'6 Xittle flDan^ 



tt 



In years long gone I was a child, 

That was in love with mother mild ; 

Because her smile she did me give; 
And in her smile I aye would live. 



One day I went with pa to field, 

Where long and strong a blade did wield 
To bow the head of stalwart corn; 

And make it lean so sad forlorn. 



I hindered papa till I tired; 

And then back home so slow retired. 
I dragged along like load up hill; 

For work will soon the small boy kill. 



Now mamma met me at the door; 

Before my feet had touched the floor. 
She placed her hand upon my brow — 

It seems at times I feel it now. 



511 



She smiled as only mother can 

And said: * 'You're mamma's little man," 
I felt as proud as proud could be 

To know the faith she had in me. 



The days sped on as swift as dream, 

Doth bear our tho'ts to land agleam. 

At length my mother dying lay; 

And so I ceased my childish play. 



Then gathered round the saddest band, 
Before her flight to shadow land, 

She said, "Take care of Judy dear; 

He's ne'er been strong for Mm I fear." 



512 



And then she passed away from time, 

Where sweet the bells of heaven chime; 

But Judy feels and knows her love, 

Which makes his life as mild as dove. 



Since then he has been sorely tried ; 

But has all passion aye defied; 
Because he hears his mother's voice; 

And in her might doth aye rejoice. 



The boy whose mother paves his way, 
Will not on earth go far astray; 

The boy who loves his mother well, 
Is held by Virtue's magic spell. 



513 



Zbc IRevo pupil/ 

It was the time when music swells 
To fill the dales with all the dells. 

A music teacher to us came, 

A man of east and western fame. 



He came to teach the children small, 

Who said they'd bring him children all 

From far and wide new scholars brought, 
Who by persuasion could be bought. 



One morn the teacher took his place, 
With look serene upon his face; 

And waited for the little feet 

The platform at the door to greet. 



At length a troop rush in with haste. 
As if no time they dared to waste: 

Their eyes were bright as twinkling stars. 
They stept like one who's out for wars. 



514 



**0 teacher, see our scholar new 

We've kept him all the time in view. " 

The teacher looked surprised to see 
A wistful dog his tail wag free. 



He looked into the teacher's face 
As if to say, "Give me a place;" 

And teach me how to play and sing, 
That I to you may others bring. 



We tried our best to teach him how; 

But ne'er he learnt except "Bow-wow," 
He left the school but none too soon; 

And now doth bay the evening moon. 



515 



IRibin' iHoreebacfe, 

I don't care nothin' 'bout a doll; 

Jes' give to me a ride on gray; 
When it's so hot you'd have to loll, 

I often help dad break our bay. 

Bef. 

I care not now for my old horn; 

But give to me a ride in corn; 
I care not how my sister's chide, 

As long as I can horses ride. 



I used to play with little Ben, 

And stay with ma from day to day; 
But now I want to be with men — 

I'll ride on horse so far away. 



Bef. 

I am my papa's little man; 

I go with him in field to plow; 
I fear no fall since I began; 

I'm goin' to break the colt in now. 



516 



My doll has eyes so full and blue 
She is to me so « sweet and true; 

She has the longest, bluest gown, 
That can be found in any town. 



She has a bonnet, large and light; 

And ribbons, red beneath chin tight; 
Her hair has not to us come yet; 

But mother says she will this get. 



I nurse my doll both early, late; 

And children come and stop at gate 
To see my doll so sweet and fair, 

Altho' she has no yellow hair. 



51T 

(33) 



My doll is gone away from mo; 

I lost lier by tho willow tree 
One day last fall before the snow, 

Came down on all things here below, 



Jkf. I love my doll so sweet and fair; 
I love my doll with yellow hair; 
I love my doll with eyes of blue; 
I love my doll to me so true; 



My doll is gone away from me— 

Her face so sweet I'll never see; 
Her cheek was red as Jim's new cap 

doll T want yon hi my la}). 

Ref. 

My doll will ne'er to me come back; 

1 often wish that I could pack — 
But mamma says she's gone away 

Washed down the stream and cannot stay. 

Bef. 



518 



There is a baby at our house; 

And nurse keeps rae as still as mouse, 
That's hid in crack behind the wall— 

O hark I I hear the baby call. 



What bothers me is how it came — 
It hain't no teeth nor yet a name. 

Bill Brown said babies doctors bring; 

But nurse told me tain't no such thing, 



She said that angels heaven sought; 

And, when they found this baby brought. 
I now believe that this is true; 

Because the baby's eyes are blue. 



S19 



Our baby is so sweet to me — 
The nicest that you ever see. 

It sleeps all day and cries at night; 
But then our baby is all right. 



Our baby is so sweet to me; 

Our baby's nice as nice can be: 
Our baby in the dark will cry; 

Perhaps it wants go back in sky. 



520 



IPirginia. 

Virginia's a dream on life's stream; 

Thine eyes made blue as they came thro', 
That heaven above where all is love; 

Your hair is light so that no night, 
Can come to. thee on land or sea; 

For how can night come to such light, 
As borne by thee on land and sea? 



Thy step's as light as the arrows flight 
Thro' leafy screen in woods unseen. 

Where river flows between the snows. 
Tracked by the deer that hastes for fear 

Indian stern will do it harm. 



Your motion's free as skiff on sea; 

You dart about as in and out 
You follow free as you can see 

That boy from school who bends to rule, 
Who tho' not nine is learning fine. 



521 



Somewhere we've been, something we've seen, 
Reaiinds of thee on hind or sea. 



Was it fawn 's play on hill that lay 
Facing the south, when sun came out 
In early morn just after storm? • 

We cannot tell but we know well 
That t'was so light it knew no night. 

The sunbeam gay dancing all day 
Rivals not thee on land or sea. 



We ne'er explain what is not plain; 

And we've no light to read thy might. 
Where is thy power this early hour, 

Except in light of His own might. 
Who gave the life and said: *'Cease strife?" 

From Him you came without a name; 
In His light true we must read you. 



b'2-2 



2)orotb^. 

Two-year-old dMughter of Mr. and Mrs. J, D.Hr- Reed, Of>w.ego, 
Kansas. 

Sweet Dorothy in Octo came, 

A month when God excels his fame; 

And throws His glory into space. 

That we may see him face to face. 



He writes himself in ev'ry tree; 

And seems to say, "Just look to Me. 
He writes himself in rainbow hue. 

As fair as that in bending blue. 



Sw^eet child you're fairer than the time, 

When heaven rung with mournful chime; 

Because you left the rainbow throne 
To travel to this world alone. 



"Sweet Dorothy, what dost thou bring 

Prom Him who was your heaven-King? 

Sweet Dorothy, what dost thou give 

To show that long since thou didst live?" 



523 



"I bring to you these eyes so true, 

Which show I borrowed heaven's blue; 

My hair still holds the ling'ring light, 

Prom land that knows no day or night." 



"Sweet Dorothy we want to know 

How swift up there the rivers flow; 

And something of that land above, 

Where we are told that all is love." 



"To you I cannot now express; 

And, if I could, you'd love me less, 
I've come for you your language teach; 

And then I'll help you heaven reach. 

I knew no sin in that great world, 

Where Christ for aye His flag unfurled. 

All gold I trod beneath my feet; 

And never once the rich did meet. 



52-t 



I rode in barque on streamlets fine; 

And knew that all God had was mine. 
My beauty matched the rainbow's might; 

I was more fair than morning's light. 



I knew you in that land above; 

And swift was sent like message dove; 
To woe and win you from all hate; 

And hold you close to^heaven's gate. 



I have a light this world knows not, 
A light that ne'er can be forgot; 

This life to me is only death, 

Which came to me with my first breath. 



I have a life which comes from God, 
As sweet as daisy in the sod. 

I have a home where rainbows bent; 
And God to me himself doth lend. " 



525 



56ertie lb. Creae^). 

Sweet Bertie with his Auntie lives 

Whose life, whose fears, whose hopes she gives 

To train him so that he will be 

Made fit for all eternity, 



In ninety ma.mma and Aunt Grace, 
Sought stream to find a bathing place. 
Woe worth the curse that there befell 
The pen must pause the tale to tell— 
A tale of woe, of cries, of pain, 
A tale that breaks our hearts again; 
Aunt Grace soon left the waters edge 
To find a steep and rocky ledge 
Prom this she fell to deep unknown. 
Where long before as since is shown. 
Men lost their lives from rocky steep 
Pitched headlong into awful deep: 
Thence hurried out to waters wide, 
Where swift the ships so proudly ride; 
And old Niagara holds sway — 
For life or death she'll ne'er give way. 



526 



Soon mamma ventured all her life 
To rescue Grace from water's strife; 
But when she left the water's edge, 
She found the treach'rous rocky ledge; 
And soon was borne apart from Grace 
To meet stern death aye face to face. 



The current strong bore each away; 
But each was found on that same day 
By eddy borne to that dread spot, 
A ghastly sight not yet forgot. 
Thus time and tide may drive apart; 
But death unites all of one heart. 



So Bertie is an orphan child; 
And yet may grow both sweet and mild. 
May Bertie cling to Christ, our King; 
And learn to conquer everything. 



527 



fl&a flDa^ Burnett* 

O Ida May you came in June, 

When all the birds sang sweetest tune; 
And blushes sweet filled all the air, 

From roses aye so sweet and fair. 



You are more fair than lillies be; 

You are the fairest fair we see. 
The days may dawn and pass to night; 

But naught so fair as Ida, bright. 



The river flows like silv'ry stream; 

But ne'er can match your hair agleam, 
Which catches light from heaven true — 

A place deep-hid beyond the blue. 



Your eyes will match the skies in May; 

You steal their blue from them away. 
Your form and face are full of grace; 

You stand with God aye face to face. 



528 



^be ©left CbilJ). 

Addie Maryland Hellwig is the Daughter of the late Mr. Geo. 
Hellwig and the present Mrs. Wm. Caldwell of Oswego, Kans. 

Her parents watched her day and night, 
As grew the glowing hectic bright, 

Which flushed her face as fierce as Death, 
Will stop for aye the living breath. 



Long nights of care-worn haggard woe, 
To baf9.e death, our fiercest foe. 

Long nights we soothe our suff'r's pain; 
Long nights we hope her life retain. 



The doctor drives disease apast; 

The patient slow comes back at last. 
Comes back from land where all was night; 

Comes back to earth with glory bright. 



The glory that we found in light. 
That came to us or day or night. 

From land, where Christ in mercy hears ; 
And drives away our hidden fears. 



529 



©ur fiDariaiv 

(Mainaii Long, of Clietopa, (laughter of Mr. and Mrs. F. VV. Long.) 

O baby wee, sweet chubby thing, 

You govern us like mighty king; 

You have deep bracelets on your wrist, 
That keep in place your tiny list. 



Your knuckles are four dimples round, 
The deepest that I ever found; 

Your lashes darker than your hair; 
Your eyes as blue a§ heaven fair. 



You are all Long and yet you're short, 
Which is a logic of queer sort; 

You came from heaven to our place, 
We know for God is in your face. 



You know not yet the ways of earth; 

But are with heaven all begirth; 
You came that we might heaven see — 

We find it all: aye, just in thee. 



530 



It lodged upon the nether blue; 

Aad clung to show that one did rue 
A part of life that had just past; 

A cloud o'er baby-land was cast. 



O tear, prophetic of the day, 

When life will not be spent in May 
O tear, that bridges baby life; 

And crosses on to sterner strife. 



O tear, begun in baby age 

flow oft you'll stain a later page. 
On baby's book in record true, 

That comes to us beneath the blue. 



531 



H picture of a Xlttle SirL 

She holds sweet lillies in her hand, 
Of flowers, fairest in this land, 

They are as pure as driven snow; 
As fair as flowers ever grow. 



She is more fair than lillies be; 

Her eyes are blue as we can see; 
Her hair is gold as morning light, 

As fair as land that knows no night. 



You look adown in mild reproof, 

Who never tread the tent's thin roof, 

On us who feel the force of sin; 

And stirring conscience "sting within." 



533 



Simple flDarjorie ant) Ibelen fiDa&eline 

flDai?. 

There are xwo girls that I know well, 
Who hold me by their magic spell. 

I scraped a street acquaintance first, 

When month of May her roses burst. 



They dance and skip and play about; 

And put despair to certain rout. 
They are as light as leaf on tree, 

That dances on the bank so free. 



They send the sunshine swift as thought, 
Can ever in the mind be wrought, 

Right thro' this heart and soul of mine; 
I know they each must be divine. 



533 

(34) 



They move about more swift than air; 

They are of all the world most fair; , 
They flit about both in and out; 

And seem to know what they're about. 



They glide about like barque on stream, 
That dances in the sun agleam. 

They live, they love, they linger still; 
And my poor heart so dead they fill. 



O Bessie Dimple, fairest fair, 

You bounce, balloon-like in the air; 
Your father's house can know no night, 

Till his dear girls pass out of sight. 



534 



Your mother knows you angel-led, 

As swift the moments by have sped, 

In days agone while in your play, 

You skipped about like fawn in May. 



You know no sin, but dwell apart, 

Where swift doth fly the jealous dart. 

In harmless flight it swiftly flies; 
And as for you, it quickly dies. 



You teach me look beyond to God, 
Who cares for daisy in the sod; 

Who loves His own where e'er they're found; 
And lifts them far above the ground. 



535 



My dog is black and white and tan; 

I used to scare him with a fan; 
But soon he knew too much for that; 

So then, with face behind my hat,. 



I made him run beneath the house, 
Where still he was as any mouse; 

And when he found out this was me, 

I blacked my hands and face you see. 



The place was blocked where once he crawled; 

And when with voice so strange I bawled^ 
He ran away to find the field. 

Where father would him kindness yield. 



536 



letbcl Iparfts an& ©imple fiDiller, 

There are two girls I often meet, 
A skipping, bounding, down the street; 
The one is dark, the other fair; 
They make the quickest, blithest pair. 



Our Ethel's eyes are dark and deep. 
As mystic as meek Moses' sleep, 
Somewhere in vale by Nebo's Mount, 
A place no man doth hold account. 



Our Dimple's eyes are hazel hue, 
As kind as light in bending blue; 
Their depths are deep, as is yon lake, 
That doth each star from heaven take. 



Sweet girls, as blithe as lambs at play, 
On grassy slope in month of May; 
Sweet girls, as pure as heaven's light; 
And fairer far, than rainbows bright. 



537 



Tn metttoriam. 



8 8 8 8 



Hftcr a l!)cai\ 

The sea sobbed by our wave-whipped cottage home 
The clouds close-ching a dim and darksome dome 
The heavy, dark-heaving, ayo woo-wod swell. 
Seemed sent to stay my soul like that deep kuelU 
Whicli tilled the air from steeple ivied round; 
And seemed to say sad heart be still he's found. 



But yet to-day I am as sad as sad can be; 
Because, my love, you have been torn from me. 
'Tis just a year to-day since ocean's tide, 
Bro't me from far to you, your happy bride. 
Our barque forced farrow thro' the silver sheen ^ 
Till came the cottaii'e ne'er before I'd seen. 



O Love, you've left the cottage in a year; 
O Love, I start wiien water's splash I hear; 
And then sad Mem'ry tells the truth to me 
•'T/^Vn' form, his face, you never more will see, ' 
O Love I walk and watch the wave-whipt lea; 
And wonder whether the billowy sea 



r>3^ 



E'er thinks to send a wav(} acrosK to me; 
Across from where t?ie V^riny V>Jl]ows free, 
Do play around an (iver-movin^ ^rave, 
As rising TdHi'wit rolls the wave on wave. 
1 wondcjr whether weei)jn^ billows bend, 
O'er him in love whose life in love did trend. 



I wonder whether from liis ^rave afar 

ile knows I still do watch hin favored star; 

Or is he here and does he know too well 

The ocean's son^ we loved is mournful knell; 

To her who loved and never left his side 

To her v/hose fancy hears, -'My lovely h>ride.'' 



f wonder whether he doth watch and know 
That day by day the cruel ocean's liow, 
Doth fail to hiinf^^ those happy faces ^ay. 
That used to come and days with us would stay. 
I cannot blame the fair, the free, the young; 
liut hope they never will be Fortune-stung". 



r>Mi 



"©ro\vnc^. 

Mr. Harry Nelson of Oswego, aged 30 years, son of Mr. and Mrs 
Frank Nelson, was drowned while bathing in the-Neoslio Kiver, near 
Oswego, on Sunday afternoon, .Uily tlie 8th, llKiO. 

Sweet breath of heaven riplets makes 

Sun-lit on silver waters wide, 

Where Neosho expands in tide, 
So tireless tho' her way she takes, 



For aye and aye to ocean deep, 

Between the woodland bending low 
To kiss the waters placid brow, 

As pass they by the rocky ^fceep. 



He goes adown the grassy dell. 

So light, so gay, with life so sweet 
To one whom earth and heaven meet; 

And Avhisper low: " Tis Avell; 'tis well." 



His step was light as leaf that falls; 
His face alit with heaven bright, 
Which comes to him who knows no night; 

For God's own voice from night aye calls 



540 



The pure, the good, the ever true, 

Who never learned from him to stray, 
Whose virtue turned their night to day, 

Who llv^a life they never rue. 



With him were those whose lives were gay; 
They stood upon the dawn af years, 
Where Hope doth banish all their fears, 

Beside his own their pathway lay. 



With him they reach the river's edge; 

With him they bathe in waters deep; 

With him they cross to where the steep 
Bank dips in sudden hidden ledge. 



Without him reach the other shore; 

They see him try the water's breach. 
But see him never reach the beach. 

He tries the place they passed before. 



541 



They passed with ease from shore to shore. 

He braved the breach who knew no fear. 

They knew not — Ah but Death was near; 
And dragged him down for ever more. 



His friend was true and did his best 

To snatch from jaws of death the boy, 
Who left his home, his mother's joy, 

His father's pride and God's own blest. 



What means that group that moves so slow, 
With step less steady than of yore? 
Wh£^t hear they now that walked before? 

What means the pale their faces show? 



Whose form is that so still and dead? 

W^hose eyes are those that gaze so long 
In space yet bear no image strong? 

What fiHs that group with awful dread? 



542 



What makes the father's clouded brow? 

Ah! thinks not he of other child; 

And how the mother must go wild? 
No wonder that his head bends low! 



A mother weeps at home alone; 

We dare not view her face of snow; 

Her hands as cold as ice doth grow; 
Our words to her will not atone. 



Her grief strikes dumb this mother true — 
Her Harry lies so still and cold — 
Would God the last take from the fold? 

Can God be love beyond the blue? 



O mother, ye are God's own child, 

Tho' childless now and filled with grief, 
Ye have your God to bring relief; 

Your faith in Him will keep you mild. 



643 



■ 



Another picture on the wall; 

Another hand that beckons now; 

Another crown on placid brow; 
Another voice from hence doth call. 



Another left this world of crime; 

Another gone with Christ to dwell; 

Another gone where none e'er fell; 
Another gone to sunny clime. 



Another by his Savior taught, 

Where none can ever be dismayed, 
And Truth can never be delayed; 

For Christ himself each hope hath fraught. 



O mother, father, Harry lives 

In land where light in glory meets, 
As rain in cloud which heaven greets 

The hour that tells us He forgives. 



544 



Your son hath gone to college now, 

Where Christ himself each one doth teach, 
Where none gainst sin doth ever preach; 

And glory circles every brow. 



He lives where none e'er niakes mistake: 
He lives so near to you and me: 
His thought for us will ever be 

How he each day may better make. 



His home is not in Eden fair, 

Where man began his sinless race, 
With God's own glory in his face; 

For God expelled this hapless pair. 



His home is not beyond the cloud, 

That sends its rainbow glories down 
To teach in prairie, village, town 

That God is love wherever found. 



546 



His home is not beyond the sun. 

In boundless space where star on star, 

Gives rise to orions so far, 
That thoughts grow pale and backward run. 



His home is not where angels bend; 

And dizzy grow from that high place, 
Where view they Jesus face to face; 

As He doth glory to them lend. 



No; Harry's here to-day and knows 
By light divine the good in friends; 
For Christ to hun this glory lends- 

The evil's gone as sun drive snows. 



He walks and talks with us each day; 
For mortals only limit know: 
So heaven's tide doth upward flow. 

No time nor tide takes him away. 



546 



We limit Mm to distant place, 

To harp and crown in realm afar; 
And thus our joy in him we mar, 

Tho' Christ would have us face to face. 



Re knows his brother gone before; 

He knows those left behind to weep; 

He does not look from distant steep; 
But 'bides with us for ever more. 



He knows why waves so dark and deep, 
Hides him from us for time so brief. 
He knows that soon will come relief; 

He knows why mother waits to weep. 



547 



He knows why sward that once he trod, 
Will grow above him every year — 
That father comes with scalding tear 

He knows himself, and you, and God. 



He knows that soon the clay will fail; 

He knows you'll find him greater grown, 
When heaven you have better known; 

He knows that Christ doth aye prevail. 



O mother, father, why despair? 

Your son's not dead but born In light, 
Where Christ doth banish aye the night; 

And where he's grown most wond'rous fair. 



548 



Doth this the Christian creed deny? 

Did Christ not teach beyond the light, 
He dwelt apart where never night, 

Can close the day and sun defy? 



No; Christ showed his disciples three 
That heaven on a hill was found, 
Just raised above the valley round; 

So lift your eyes and you will see. 



As John in Patmos in his day, 

Pound heaven's gate swung open wide; 

And found himself the Christ beside; 
So you may soar from earth away. 



549 



llba Florence Barricft* 



Ida Floreuce was born to Mr. Edward Barrick and Mrs. Jose- 
phine Barrick in Indianola, Iowa, June 4, 1857 and died -accidental 
burning— Aug. 23, 1873 in Indianola, while preparing dinner for her 
grandfather in the absence of her mother who was near Kansas City, 
Kansas and who did not arrive in Indianola till after her duughber's 
burial. 

It was the time when fruitage bends, 

And spring and summer's glory lends 

Its lustre to the apple's form; 

And bids men store for winter's storm. 



It was the time when nature breathed, 

O'er bended bough which God had wreathed^ 

With tinted colors like the bow. 

That hangs the heavens — God's own brow. 



It was the time when ev 'ry leaf 

Was ripened — God's own glory sheaf, 

It was the time when each tree's life. 

Seemed crimsoned with its awful strife. 



550 



Like warrior great whose blood doth tell 
How well he fought before he fell, 

With countless wounds upon his breast, 
He finds at last eternal rest. 



Like some great life that better grows 
As stream that broader, deeper flows; 

So ev'ry leaf before its fall. 

Doth show that God but late did call. 



Sweet Florence life had but begun; 

And yet the sand did lowly run, 
Her life's complete as bud on tree; 

Doth let us all its beauty see. 



At school she did in lessons find 

The means that moulded heart and mind; 
At school she did her beauty show, 

As thoughts from God to her did flow. 



551 



At home her parents sighed to see 

That one so young should be so free, 

In things pertain to heaven's light, 

That one so young should be so bright. 



O parents, it was God above, 

Who gave you then a glimpse of love; 
The love he had for Florence sweet. 

Who worships now at Jesus' feet. 



One day aye sad as sad could be. 

She stept so light and aye so free 

In household duties all in love — 
Her life was gentle as a dove. 



At length she bent in haste o'er fire 

Out leaped the flame and soon attire; 

And form of Florence tell the tale, 

That breaks men's hearts and turn them pale. 



552 



My pen shall not the story tell — 

How brave she was before she fell, 

In flames that saved her sweet young face, 
Which e'en in death bespake God's grace. 



She's gone where Christ himself doth teach; 

And our mistakes can never reach. 
She's gone where Christ, himself doth live; 

And yet He's here and doth forgive. 



She's safe in Christ without a fear; 

And He's so close we Him can hear; 
* 'I am in you and you in He 

My face my form you'll ever see." 



Where is thy daughter mother mild? 

Is she not now thy darling child? 
Has she gone home beyond the skies, 

Where she her mother now denies? 



553. 



Is she an angel on the wing, 

Sped far away to Christ her King? 
Hath she left earth to see the sky; 

Aad to thine heart makes no reply? 



Or lies she still beneath the sod, 
Away from us, away from God? 

No; mother mild that child of thine, 
Altho' she is with God divine. 



Doth know and love your good intent; 

And all but tears and years you've spent. 
In love to one who stands beside; 

And aids thee aye for Truth decide. 



554 



fIDerton X- Ikainee* 

On July the first, 1899, the late Mr. Karnes died from the effects 
of a car accidentally backing over him at the Kiddoo Mills, Oswego, 
Kansas. 

When first the dew was gemmed on greenest sward, 
A million suns in drops by toiler seen, 

As busy men fast pressed for that reward, 

Denied to none who are just in their mien. 



HE passed adown the busy, busy street; 

And knew but few in that life which shone true. 
But these he greeted with a smile as sweet 

As that of Him known only to the few, 



Who loves all things both great and small below; 

Who loves the dewdrop that reflects the sun; 
Who loves the lilies, hid in valleys low; 

Who loves much, father, mother, widow's son. 



Did that incoming event overcast? 

Did Death's dark shadow stealthy steal his 
thought? 
Did Angel Death wait till the very last, 

Before his message to our son, Mert, brought? 



OOJ 



Did he not hear that voice calling, calling; 

Calling him home, calling him to that home, 
Prom which love like lark's song is falling, falling; 

That home on high from which none care to 
roam? 



The early morn beheld Mert strong as Life. 

At noon he is sighing, bleeding, dying. 
Crushed, carried, cut, mangled in awful strife 

In under that car as it is flying. 



Like wheels in busy, busy mill, ne'er still. 

In morn or noon or night, from year to year, 

In noise so great Mert never dreamed of ill. 
Till friends in mill saw everv cause to fear. 



Mert, hemmed between two trains, knows not 

That stealing slow in front is monster. Death. 

O sight, most cruel, ne'er to be forgot," 

By comrades pale who wait with bated breath. 



556 



Slow thro' the pathway he had lately trod, 

With step as free as roe on mountain high, 

He's borne by men who softly tread the sod, — 
A doctor with twice need of nerve serves by. 

Arrived at home he thinks not of his pain, 

But, "What, oh, what will mother do?" he 
asks. 
His face so pale, so patient, speaks so plain; 

And mind, and heart, and soul, and thought 
unmasks. 



At dead of night an angel bright and blessed, 
Relieved him of his pain and took away 

To light and glory and eternal rest 

That one our love had tried in vain to stay. 



Friends, many, pay their last tribute to one. 
Had crossed the bridge between eternities, 

Whose life, whose fears, whose hopes had scarce 
begun. 
Had ^one to him controlling destinies. 



i^Oi 



The service, songs sweet, solemn and sad thought: 
Yet soothing to saint, warning to careless : 

Strong hope to mother, brother sisters, brought. 
Are young and old and strong not too heedless? 



Theme— Life, tho' but vapor, has endless power; 

Each life's as great as vapor-driven train, 
Which drags great burdens up hill every hour; 

So life enchained and filled with God moves 
pain; 



And carries sin- burdened souls to find grace, 

In him who made the "bow of promise bright;" 

And bends o'er us till we see face to face, 
Then are transformed into His image. 



558 



BH 



Yet, dead, Mert will not, cannot ever be. 

His life, his deeds, his trials live to-day. 
They live in you that they may shine on me, 

He lost this life to have that and alway. 



He lost a life he could not keep, to gain 
A life he cannot lose in heaven dear: 

He gained this life where Christ will banish pain; 
For Christ above is love and holds Mert near. 



But why took God. our Mert from us so young? 

'^God takes the good too good to stay; 
And leaves the bad too bad to take away." 

And God will not have Mert misfortune stung. 



559 



flDr0. IKebecca 3oncB. 

She lived a life of sore distress; 

But loved her savior none the less. 
She bore her pain for many years; 

But spent no time in useless tears. 



She anchored far beyond the vale, 

Where seas move not in stormy gale; 

She anchored in that unknown sea, 

Where vessel's keel ne'er feels the lea. 



She anchored in a shoreless world, 

Where Christ has his great flag unfurled; 

Her barque was borne thro' tideless sea 
To place we call eternity. 



Her son sits still with bending brow 
To catch a gleam of her, somehow; 

He listens long to hear her call — 

"My son, this way; you need not fall. " 



560 



iiagamii'i<iiiHi«idifciii| 



O, sou, thy mother hath not died, 
But lives in Christ, the crucified: 

O, son, Disease, and Death, Despair, 
Come not to land that's aye so fair. 



'Tis land where rainbow glories bend, 
O'er her who did to Christ once lend 

Her life, her love, her latest breath. 

When hovered near the hour of Death. 



O, son, love on till thou shalt be 

With Christ in sweet eternity; , 

Thy mother's love is deathless now — 

She stands enthroned on gloried brow. 



561 



flD^ Xove'0 Heleep. 

She is most fair with golden hair; 

Her eyes are true as heaven's blue; 
She is all love fresh from above; 

Her life she lives and all me gives. 



She's drowned in sea not far from lea. 

O waters deep, rouse her from sleep; 
For she is mine, altho' divine, 

Tho' waters rave around her grave. 



She cannot know that waters flow 
Apast the glen unseen by men, 

Who rush in haste their lives to waste. 

In gath'ring wealth sometimes by stealth, 



563 



For sons who lent or money spent, 
In spite of cost to parent lost 

In busy mart, where jealous dart, 

Doth pierce the life in bitter strife. 



My love lies deep so fast asleep; 

I love her still beneath the hill, 
In waters wide where ships do ride; 

And doth she know my tears still flow? 



She gave her life to save for strife 

A man whose years with countless tears, 

Are dragging past till comes the last; 

For love is dead there's naught instead. 



563 



Bi 



flDre. 2)olli? Ibarrieon* 

Her life was stern tho' just and right; 

And now she lives in heaven's light. 
She scorned the mean with deepest hate; 

And closed to them her cottage gate. 



Herself so stern she did deny 

That honest hate she did defy. 

She spake right out for Him she served; 
And never from the truth was swerved. 



Her life was great like mighty stream, 

That bears each barque thro' heaven's gleam. 

As hast'ning to the ocean wide, 

It bears each weight upon its tide. 



As waters splash their pebbled shore; 

And kiss the rose forever more, 
That bends from bank at river's side; 

So stretched her mercies far and wide. 



564 



She left the world, whose shame and pride 
Drove her to seek her Savior's side; 

Her church, her Christ, her crown, her cross, 
She deemed divine and all else loss. 



True life began at that pure spring. 

Where found she Christ her living King. 

She sought the Savior's side alone, 
Tho' Christ for all did once atone. 



Great lives aye leave the listless throng. 

When hear they heaven's sweetest song; 

Great lives must ever stand apart, 
True targets for the jealous dart. 

The great are great in lowly life; 

The great are great in battle strife; 
The great are great in cabin small; 

The great are great in massive hall. 

So she was great in cabin life 

As trusted, hopeful, happy wife 

Of one who felt his flagging zeal 

Inspired by her whose life was real. 



565 

(36) 



George Iborace Ibopftina* 



George Horace Hopkins died at the age of five years at his fath- 
er's home (the late Mr. W. E. Hopkins near Bartlett, Kans.) The au- 
thor was impressed hy a likeness of the child, seen by him some years 
after George's deatli. • 

"What means that look upon your face? 
Why gaze so earnest into space?" 
It can not be that thou wilt find 
That bound far hid from all mankind: 



"I know the bound that I have past; 
Because the world beyond doth cast 
Its flooded light which gives to me 
That light by which each day I see. 



This life to me is certain death, 
Which came to me with my first breath; 
You know some things which are to me 
As dark as darkness e'er can be." 



566 



' 'Why came you here to use that light, 
From land to us as dark as night? 
You seem to look right on thro' space, 
As if you sought a further place." 

"I look and linger in that light, 
Where none have heard of day or night. 
I came to help you on to God; 
And turn you from His awful rod. 



I came to show you how to live, 
Lest you your time, your all may give 
For things that perish day by day, 
While endless life within you lay. 



I came that I might win your love; 
And throne it there with God above; 
Because the bound is just before— 
I live in Him forever more. 



567 



The land up there I better know, 
Where Time's fair tide doth never flow» 
I live a life within my God 
As sure as daisy's in the sod. 



I fear no foe before me cast — 
I know that Death is of the past. 
My death to me you now call life, 
When I began this awful strife. 



There is a halo round me bent — 
'Tis that which angels to me lent, 
When I was drawn from heaven's throne; 
And came to earth with light alone. 



There is a splendor in me yet, 
Which blends this life lest I forget 
The God of whom I am a part; 
And lose my love — divinest art. 



BBBBH 
568 



You teach me in this land of night, 
That I may bring to you the hght, 
Which circles round my very life; 
And helps me live above this strife. 



My love to parents is most dear — 
I want my brother, sister near 
That they may live like me in love, 
When I return like Noah's dove. 



569 



Ibarve? M. parfte* 

Mr. Parks was born in Kalamazo, Mich , 1859; and accidentally 
killed in a Joplin mine explosion last year (1899.) 

His birth took place in northern state, 

Where brave and stalwart men are known; 
As victories so oft have shown, 

In years long gone and days but late. 



When manhood came he came out west; 
And toiled in mine as dark as night, 
Far hid from all but God's own sight. 

He had that light which aye is best; 



That light which ever comes from God, 
To find its own in deepest mine; 
And whisper, ''Still thou art divine, 

More fair than daisy on the sod." 



The light from God was great that time; 
It came to him so that he saw 
The danger hid behind the law — 

The law that's clear in age and prime. 



670 



The voice of God did whisper him: 

Stay in my light above the ground; 
To-day be not in yon mine found; 

Ne'er mind the owner's sordid whim. 



He harkened to that Voice at first; 

And said, "The danger is too near, 
I do those mighty boulders fear; 

For gold I am not keen athirst." . 



But then the plea to Harvey brought: 

"Just come to-day and stay till noon - 
Those boulders will not move so soon. 

So Harvey that other Voice fought. 



At noon there was fierce thuader sound— 
A hundred boulders shift their place; 
And. Harvey meets Him face to face. 

Who said to-day be you not found, 



57 L 



In mine where danger lurks before; 
But hark to Me to-day and now, 
And I will stand by you somehow : 

Trust me to day and evermore. 



He met his God with that sweet calm, 
Which comes to us soon after storm; 
And soon he saw his Savior's form, 

And felt His hands apply that balm, 



Which heals our wounds, and soothes our pain, 
But what about that Voice once stilled? 
Was it the act of one self-willed? 

And will he aye with Christ remain? 

The A^oice once stilled was His who live, 

To right the wrong that we have done — 
We live in Him the blesse'^d One: 

The Voice was His who will forgive. 



572 



The act was not of one self-willed; 

But was mistake like children make, 
Who cannot yet all wisdom take — 

Our lives with all mistakes are filled. 



With Christ he died; with Christ he lives, 
With Christ he'll glory ever share; 
With Christ he knows but heaven's fare 

In Christ he lives; for Christ forgives. 

But wife and children feel the pain, 

That came to them with latest breath 
Of him who toiled and suffered death, 

That they in comfort might remain. 



There is no cure for half their woe; 

There is no life that can them bring 
Sweet joy except in Christ, their King, 

Who'll Death destroy, their only foe. 



573 



onn 



Sleep, mother, sleep, your work is done! 
Sleep, mother, sleep, m that great One, 
Who loved and longed to bring thee home. 
To dwell with Him beyond the dome, 



That overhangs this life of ours. 
In day and night thro' longest hours. 
'Sleep! with thine hands all folded still; 
For they so long have done God's will. 



Sleep, mother, sleep, your loved ones hear; 
And soon they will to you draw near. 
Sleep mother with the daisies rest; 
Forever sleep on Jesus' breast. 



574 



Sleep, mother, all free from care, 
You live in us who better fare; 
Because your life was lived on earth, 
Where we now know your own true worth. 



Sleep, mother, till you h6ar "Well done" 
From Him who is the righteous One. 
Sleep, mother, where the daisies grow; 
Sleep, till eternity shall flow. 



575 



Somebody's darling is still and dead; 
Somebody's darling — there's naught instead; 
Somebody's darling is free from pain; 
Somebody 's darling did heaven gain. 



Somebody, comfortless, weeps her tears; 
Somebody looks to the darksome years; 
Somebody looks to a vacant chair; 
Somebody knows that he's ^rown more fair. 



Somebody is gone to his home above; 
Somebody looks down to us in love; 
Somebody will be the first to gree t; 
And lead his mother to Jesus' feet. 



576 



Somebody will think her child so still, 
In graveyard that year by year doth fill; 
But he to-day is in Christ, his King, 
Who doth to him great glory bring. 



Somebody has gone to school with God, 
Somebody will never know the rod; 
Somebody is growing day by day; 
Somebody is not so far away. 



677 



Babi? (5onc. 



Marguerete Rettig, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Retfcig, of 
Oswego, age 18 months. 



Sleep; little Marguerete; 

Not in mother's arms, 
Not on mother's breast; 

For thou art now at rest 
Free from all alarms. 



Kest O little one rest 
No sister for guide, 

But Christ, the Crucified; 
Little one thou'rt blest 

Much more than all the rest. 



Go, to thy grassy nest; 

Let flowers hide thy breast: 
First flow^ers shall o'er thee blow 

Pure as the driven snow. 



578 



Peace, peace, little one rest. 
Thy father loved thee here; 

But thy God called thee there. 
Thou art too pure for earth; 

And God's love knows thy worth 
Little one fair:- so fair. 



Father, mother, brother 

And sisters too, are left. 

Do they all feel bereft 

Of one who is now gone 

Where the pure light shines on? 

One gone from suffering 

Who is from sin set free; 

And shall forever be, 

At the heavenly knee 

Waiting for you and me? 



Weep while the baby sleeps; 

Remember it has gone, 
Where it ever looks on 

The face of Him who loved 
Our little one beloved. 



579 



Iln Memory of Caroline. 

O Caroline! fair Caroline! 

A pupil mine of sweet sixteen. 

Your cheek was of rosy hue; 

Your eye might match the heaven's blue. 



Your step was light as fawn at play, 
On Southern hill in grassy May; 
Your looks were free from cant and bright; 
For you had borrowed heaven 's light. 



I loved you then; I love you still, 

Tho' cold you lie beneath the hill. 

The cold, gray stone that marks your grave, 

Doth not thy maiden name engrave; 



For that was lost in Sunny May, 
When freedom thou did'st give away — 
Your name, your life, with me you cast; 
And Mem'ry sweet doth keep the past. 



BBBS 

580 



Thy home was on a grassy slope — 
To south lay Erie's mighty scope, 
In wide expanse of waters blue — 
To east Old Niag'ra's flood threw 



Rocks rugged, and loosened from bed deep; 

And hurried on atween rocks steep, 

To that expanse beyond the land, 

Wl'iere ships must guide by God's own Hand. 



It w^as midsummer, July gay, 
With ne'er a cloud on that bright day— - 
The tears, and hopes, and cares and joys, 
Were equal in their counterpoise. 



At altar then you took your vow, 
Tliat ne'er for us to part below. 
The blue was bent in ardent love. 
While God did speak from throne above. 



58J 

(37) 



Three summers passed like swiftest dream, 
Enwrapt iu Fortune's silv'ry sheen, 
"With ne'er a shadow in advance, 
And swifter than the lightning's glance 



My Carrie, sweet was torn from me: 
And buried deep in mighty sea; 
O life, so black, since that dark hour, 
When Death did 'throne his mighty power, 



So lone I am; so lone I dwell. 
So lone I pass adown each dell, 
That Time and Tide presents to me, 
As pass I to eternity. 



582 



Thine hands are folded in that sleep, 
In land of love, so calm and deep: 
Those hands that have, for us, long toiled; 
And oft, for us, the tempter foiled. 



Thy voice is hushed in this lone land, 
Where sad we sit, a silent band: 
There is no music to our ear, 
So sweet on earth we now can hear. 



O saint, so safe, so strong, so sure, 
Thou hast our lives uplifted pure. 
To God, himself, beyond the blue, 
Where now you reign in heaven true. 



583 



oe 



We are as sad as sad can be; 
Because tby face we cannot see, 
We no more hear thee hghtly tread- 
How can it be that thou art dead? 



It seems so sudden to our thought; 
And yet thou hast, by Christ, been bought. 
We shall aye meet where rainbows bend; 
And find with j^ou in Christ our Friend. 



.■■)^4 



Aged thirty seven. Died at her home in Oswego, November 14, 



1900. 



Her hopes, her home, her heart were His, 
Who dwells beyond the now, that is: 
Her church, her Christ, she came to know, 
So far beyond all things below. 



Her life so strong, so true, so pure, 
Did all of heaven aye allure; 
Her motives high as heaven be, 
Made all her life, so sweet, so free. 



The poor, the sick, the dying knew — 
Her visits kept they aye in view. 
Her light, her love, they lonely lose, 
While sleeps she sweet in calm repose. 



Her husband, homeless knows tlie cost: 
Her children feel their all is lost. 
The darksome land is one lament, 
For her whose life so well was spent. 



HH 

585 



The house, the home, that used to be, 
Her face, her form, no more can see, 
The lawn all grassy-green will grow; 
But ne 'er again her step can know. 



And yet she is not dead to-day! 

Nor gone so very far away. 

My own dim life still feels her light, 

Which drives from me my endless night. 



Her face, her form, her manners sweet 
Each day, each hour will others greet: 
And long they will in mem'ry hold 
That face to-day so still and cold. 



Her life, once hampered by her pain. 
Has loosed its chains to heaven gain. 
Her life, once dimmed by this great earth. 
Doth now the throne of God engirth. 



586 



Her husband feels reflected light, 
Which turns aside his cruel night, 
His life, once lifted to the throne, 
Is not to-day left all alone. 



E'en A.lta, Hattie, Harry knows 
How stern the stream of life aye flows; 
And yet they're borne adown the stream, 
With mother's light so sure agleam. 



They had a mother who did teach 
Her children all how heaven reach. 
They had a mother who doth give 
The highest hope for which they live. 



os; 



Iflora £. Stice* 

Edith Floriae Stice, daughter of, Mr. aud Mrs. Geo. Stice, near 
Oswego, Kansas, was born October 23, 1900, and died December 9. 

You had so lightly drawn your breath, 
When crossed your path that monster, Death, 
Who threw a shadow on your life; 
And then began thine awful strife, 
Which ended pain and life, and breath; 
And stronger made the realm of Death. 



You had scarce learned the morning light 
When came to you, your darkest night: 
You had not learned what meant the day, 
When you were called to night away. 
To you your name was all so strange, 
When for your tomb we did arrange. 



You look so lovely in your dress — 
We love you now, and none the less; 
Because as pure as budding rose, 
You sleep to-day in calm repose. 
Your bed is narrow; but so deep, 
Tliat none shall e'er disturb thy sleep. 



588 



You are not found on mother's breast; 
But sweet in Christ is now thy rest. 
Your soul has known no form of sin — 
You are as pure as Christ within; 
You have been washed from earthly stain, 
By Him whom men have wicked slain. 

You are to-day with Christ your King, 
Who doth to you all blessings bring. 
You are in school where Christ doth teach; 
And earth's mistakes can never reach. 
You do to-day in glory stand, 
Upheld by God's own mighty Hand. 



Your parents, brothers, sisters, — all 
In Mem'ry hear thy sweetest call; 
"Come leave the vain things of the earth; 
For I with Glory am begirth. 
Oh, let your mind all fill with hght, 
From land that knows no day or night." 



589 



temperance Department 

^bc Cur^e of Cursee. 

O men who. vote, be true, be right, 
And fight in Heaven's armor bright; 
Prom age to age this Curse doth bring 
The curse that still to us doth cling. 



O men who vote, do ye not know 
That hell reigns here on earth below; 
Because of money ye can make, 
Tho' Death, Despair, our dear sons take? 



O Ship of State that sails the sea 

Ye carry curse to ev'ry lea; 

Ye sink all heaven- hopes in hell: 

And 5^et ye say, " 'Tis well; 'Tis well." 



590 



Ship of State, ye dig the grave 
Of those ye ought in love to save; 
O Ship of State, where is relief 
To woman, bearing thy guilt — grief. 



Ye license men to poison men 
With drink as dead as snake in fen; 
But woman finds no liberty 
This side the great eternity. 



We vaunt a vanquished foe in spain; 
But v/ars and woes with us remain; 
The cup of curse o'er us has sway — 
It lives a life we loathe to-day. 



To Kansas, Sunflower state, the world, 
Doth look to see our flag unfurled — 
The flag of free and honest men, 
Who lead the right in hope again. 



591 



Shall Kansas, stronghold of the right, 
Lay down the sword to save with might? 
No; Kansas shall not, cannot fail; 
For on our God we will prevail. 



Yea, God is right and God is might; 
And He hath blest us in this tight; 
These dens of hell must vanquished be 
By light we call eternity. 



592 



Her face expressed her deep despair — 
A face that once was fairest fair 
Before she left her father's farm, 
Where none e'er came to do her harm. 



Her step once light as fawn at play 
On Southern slope in grassy May, 
Seemed now to drag a lengthening chain, 
Which left her life in constant pain. 



A drunkard's wife behind the world. 
Where wealth not woe her flag unfurled; 
Her all was anchored to the vile ^ 
Who came not home but to revile. 



Behind the world the drunkard's wife 
Spends hopeless, helpless, hateful life; 
Behind the world that on her frowns, 
She wins no wreath and wears no crowns. 



59.3 



Behind the world whose scoff and jeer, 
She meets in evil look and leer, 
Which comes to Virtue wed" to Vice, 
"When pure to impure sacrifice. 



Out of the world she's driven now; 
Out of the world with throbbing brow: 
Out of the world with her sorrow; 
Out of the world dread to-morroiu. 



Out of the world, an awful life; 
Out of the Avorld, ah bitter strife: 
Out of the world in dreaded pain; 
Out of the world she must remain. 



Out of the world the poet lives. 
And all of his life to Muses gives; 
Out of the world on sunny shore; 
Out of the world for evermore. 



594 



Out of the world the miser knows 
His gold for years and years aye grows : 
Out of the world the merchant lives; 
And all in all for riches gives. 



Out of the world she lives her life; 
Out of the world despised as wife. 
Out of the world to shun its sin? 
Ah no! but by Sin she is shut in. 



The drunkard's wife waits by the gate; 
Ye need not look, your lord is late; 
Ye need not look for love in least; 
For when he comes he'll be a beast. 



Out of the world o'erwhelmed in shame, 
Out of the world with drunkard's name; 
Out of the world in heaven-not, 
Out of the world by charch forgot. 



595 



Out of the world sweet solace seek; 
Out of the world your Savior greet; 
Out of the world the church is stayed. 
Where Christ leaves none to be dismayed. 



Out of the world the Savior lends 
His glory where the rainbow bends, 
O'er lives once lived in shame and pain, 
But where no tear will e'er remain. 



596 



^be ©runftarJx 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, forever to joint he goes. 
Tramp, tramp, the butt and scoff of all his 

foes. 
March on and on and on a bottle find; 

The world with this can always suit your mind. 



The drunkard slumbers aye in .booth at night — 
His night extends far into morning's light. 
His neighbor's farm and fence and field are 
right, 

His neighbor works by day and sleeps at night. 



The drunkard knows no farm, no field, no fold, 
His tattered clothes invite the winter's cold. 
His hand once strong now trembles at the bar; 

His wife has left this wretch to dwell afar. 



697 

(38) 



Tramp, tramp, tramp, he wishes to borrow now, 
Tramp, tramp, tramp, away with frown on his 

brow; 
He finds his credit is gone with his gin; 

He hates his friends, his foes, himself within. 



Tramp, tramp, tramp he goes we call ne'er-do-well, 
Tramp, tramp, tramp he forces his way to hell. 
All hapless, hopeless, helpless dies at last 

This drunkard vile and then we stand aghast. 



But then who is this drunkard < that doth live, 
And all his toil, his tho't doth useless give? 
Is he a rebel in this mighty land; 

And was he reared by lawless curse 'd hand? 



598 



No, he's no rebel; but produced by law. 

The best crop of drunkards you ever saw, 
Were loyal lads to follow law canteen 

Christian Endeavor boys scarce past sixteen. 

Why bless you boy, the rum-maker you see, 
Is good before the law as you dare be; 
And then the man who hands the stuff at bar, 

Is guarded well by law both near and far. 



It is by law "we make the whiskey ring; 

It is by law we make a man a thing; 

It is by law we guard the liquor men; 
It is by law the drunkard finds the pen. 



599 



The shame clung close around a form, 
Half buried in the snowdrift deep: 

The form of one who braved the storm. 
Before she fell in death asleep. 



She was a child had all day cried; 

And but the stormy wind sent back: 
"My mother long ago has died; 

And father money now doth lack. 



Oh help; for I my father fear: 

I must with money now return; 

For he excuses will not hear; 

And low the fire on hearth doth burn. " 



600 



Her eyes are closed in that deep sleep, 

From which no soul can wake in pain; 

Her eyes are closed no more to weep 
Her eyes will look no more in vain. 



Her eyes may search the heavens rare; 

But ne'er can find a world like this. 
There is no realm where she can fare, 

So ill, so far from heaven's bliss. 



601 



farm Department. 

^ ^ ^ 

^be ifanner'6 1ban&0. 

When Chaos trembles on his throne, 
And shmes the morning star alone 

Unseen the Hand the curtain draws; 
The hand that wrote the Sinai laws. 



When one by one the stars shine dead, 
Are lost to sight like sunken lead, 

Unseen the hand that lends the light 
To darkest dewdi^op of the night. 



When this great Hand the Sun doth lift 
Old Sol doth bend thro' cloudy rift 

To rouse each bird on hedge, on tree. 

That sings his praise so full and free. 



When claspless all falls vine to earth 
And all the year to it is dearth, 

Unseen the Hand that makes it fast; 
And give it place to fruit at last. 



602 



XLbc 3farmer'0 waa^. 

He doth not care for steam or train, 
Or how the ships may cross the main; 
But springs astride his dapple gray, 
And she her way and his doth pay. 



The farmer grows his grapes and bread; 
And aye could live without a thread 
Of silk so soft in city found — 
His wool can grow on his own ground. 



3?he farmer can a high wall place, 
And all forbid to see his face; 
But town folk must his produce gain, 
If they on earth will long remain. 



The farmer wears his last year's hat; 
And what can you all say to that? 
But we must dress to suit our friends 
Or never make to them amends. 



603 



Zhc jfarmer'a Boi?, or HJoung Clarence. 

Young Clarence is a farmer boy, 

His father's hope, his mother's joy; 

Long summer days he works on farm; 
In winter time he learns hke charm. 



I oft have seen him in tlie field. 

To make the weeds his sickle yield. 

He drives the team all day amain, 

And at his work doth aye remain. 



How much he knows no tongue can tell- 
He moves to music like the bell, 

That swings far out from tower true 
To send its sounds into the blue. 



604 



He moves to music God's world makes, 
At taorn or noon as walks he takes. 

Young Clarence Lincoln-like is reared, 

On farm whence men have heaven neared. 



His days are spent with what does right — 

The cows, the horse, the sheep with might 

Do serve the God who gave them birth — 
The boy who's right is full of mirth. 



He sees the sun to rise so bright*; 

He sees the stars come forth at night; 
He learns from God the ever true; 

He learns what ne'er we live to rue. 



605 



®n tbe ifarme tbe (5reat are flDa&e. 

On farms the great are made, 'tis true as God 
Doth reign beyond the bent rainbow in the 

cloud. 
As sure as rills do channels deeper wear 

The great, the strong, the true, on farms are made. 



No one a moment will deny this truth; 

But ivhy the thinker asks does God above 
On farms the bravest, brightest men aye make 

Why not declare for college, grand and great? 



Because machine-made men are not His kind; 

Because the Teacher, Truth, excels mere clay; 

Because when God has work his own to do, 
He will His own, by plans His own aye teach. 



And so it comes the farmer's boy can see 

At night the curtain drawn across the da3^. 
Which wedged between two nights has held 
her sway, 

And traveled light-winged athwart the blue sky. 



606 



He sees the curtain drawn to close the day; 

He sees It besprinkled with countless stars: 
He sees the pale faced moon grow to her place ; 

But never sees the Hand the curtain move. 



He learns to trust the Mind, Omnipotent, 

That from a void of nothingness has made 
Ten thousand worlds hid deep in endless space; 

And swung us out on eternity's verge. 



He learns by watching close the sunrise hour 
To hope against the saddest seeming fate; 
Because he knows the darkest hour lies near 

The edge of gold that breaks the reign of night. 



607 



He learns in all reforms to move most slow; 

Because the dark doth slow turn dingy gray, 
As slow the great sun re-asserts himself 

And quenches one by one the dying stars. 



He learns to work while yet it is called day; 
And thus he finds the value of each hour, 
The seasons too confirm the same great truth; 

And well he learns to sow if he would reap. 



He works in days that God himself doth give; 
He rests at night when God His curtain draws, 
Around the couch which God himself doth 
guard, 

He learns from God and cannot help be great. 



608 



It reared its form against the sky, 

And braved the breeze with right good will; 

Aye, faced each foe so stern and still 
In sun and storm with wet and dry. 



Young saplings bent and bowed in death, 
While stalwart oaks uprooted lay — 
The stern old stub had come to stay. 

With leaves all gone it knew no breath. 



It stood alone, ah so alone-^ 

Nothing dare its form embrace; 
For this would death bring on apace; 

It did not for its space atone 



By leaf to shade the panting sheep. 
By bloom of promise that some day 
It would with fruit its own way pay, 

And made no craft for waters deep. 



609 



It took no place on lowly hearth 

To cheer the farmer when his strife 
All day so long and cold gave life 

By change to children's happy mirth. 



It made no harp for passing air, 

No answer made murmuring rill, 
As poured its waters down the hill 

To find its bed in ocean fair. 



Ifc stood so still as if the ground, 

Had curdled blood within its veins; 
It stood as still as horse whose reins, 

Had wrapt themselves a rock around. 



While others lost their sweet perfume 

It seemed as strong as strong could be- 
Yea heeding not eternity, 

Each spring its old life would resume. 



610 



It feared no foe and found no friend, 

As days and weeks to years aye grew; 
And Death, herself, claimed all but few^; 

Ne'er sun nor storm nor shade could end. 



At length one day with man in corn. 
As far from tree as stone is cast, 
The stern old stub fell down at last, 

As if it viewed all foes in scorn. 



It died without a moment's haste, 
Defied its foes and to their face 
Said: ''Strike you m^j but I my place 

Will keep and ne'er a minute waste. 



O stub so stern you've taught me how 

To keep my place in storm and shade — 
The place which God for me hath made; 

And leave results for His own now. 



611 



Zbe farmer'0 IReturn* 

(Written for Kansas Farm and Home. ) 

"Well wife," said Parmer Jones one day, 

"I'm glad I'm back again from Rome; 
For seems to me the onlj^ pay, 
A man can git for goin' away 

Is joy w^hich comes in gittin' home. 
I tell you wife, this old arm chair, 
Is better than seats at Paris fair; 
Or in them cabs that jar one's bones, 
As slam they go over the stones. 

Haste and hurry! 

Rush and worry! 
'Tis silver, gold, bills and flurry. 

You know I saw my brother John? 

Well wife, he's not the same old chap 
He was when workin' my flat farm. 
When ne'er he had a tho't of harm; 

Por loss of gold would be mishap; 
Which John w^ouldkill within a year; 
Por gold's his God, my wife, I fear. 
He talks his stocks at ten per cent, 
But ne'er a dime for God is spent. 

My heart was rent 

With 'Ten per cent; 
And stocks and shares and pay your rent!' 



612 



^'1 heard St. Peter's music chime; 

And doubt not it was most grand: 
But one time it made me 'most cry, 
As Kansas with its clear blue sky, 

Came back to me with prairie land. 
I saw this house on level plain; 
And wished to cross the raging main 
To see my wife and children three; 
And hear my daughter sing so free. 

I'm glad I'm back 

I'm off the rack, 
That travel makes for my poor back. 



"I told you how I crushed my hat 

By settin' on it the first day; 
And how some thief took watch from me. 
The second night and got it free; 

And how my money went same way. 
So I laid over at New York; 
And waited cheque from Neighbor Stork. 
If I had knowed I could gone on; 
And got the money from good John 

In London bank 

Among the rank; 
And file of men as John don't thank. 



613 

(39) 



"Well wife, where are my workin' clothes? 

I'm glad to get out o' this black: 
I won't go far away to-day; 
Because our folks will come and stay, 

When they find out that I've come back. 
But then I want to see that colt — 
They say he's as quick as a spring bolt" — 
So out to field the farmer hies; 
And lists to bird on wing that flies 

And sings, "Chee! Chee! 

Listen to me! 
"I will, says Jones: "for you suit me. " 



Arrived in field he whistles shrill; 

And soon his horses round him stand. 
He strokes old Sam and pats old Jim, 
As one by one they come 'round him. 

'Tm glad to see you all on hand; 
I would not give you for all fads 
In bikes and busses with soft pads — 
Ah! here's the colt and he's a roan; 
I'll ne'er leave you without a groan. 

Oh yes, old Black, 

When on your back 
No pleasure on this plain I lack. 



614 



"I tell you, lads, this much I've learned: 

Thab gold will not a pleasure buy. 
But love's exchanged and ne'er runs out. 
And now I know what I'm about. 

So when I leave this Kansas sky 
I'll take my land and State as well; 
And all of you with me shall dwell; 
For after all I learned at Rome 
That "best of journey" is gettin' home. 

Yes! Yes! old Black, 

'Tis on your back, 
I'll travel hence and soon be back.' 



615 



Zbc poor flDan'6 HppeaU 

You know how poor I am to-day; 
Because my wheat crop did not pay, 
On bottom land for many years; 
For which my wife spent days in tears. 



The flood came on in month of May, 
And took my forty ton of hay; 
A cyclone wide took down my corn, 
And left my babies all forlorn — 



Their mother lay so cold, so still, 
Just by the brook beneath the hill; 
Her courage cured my aching brain — 
But now she doth no more remain 



With me and children three on farm 
To guard our home from each alarm, 
Which comes to us in Kansas dear, 
Where Hope gives place to awful Fear. 



616 



Now you have plenty in your till; 
Can you not help me start the mill, 
I used to run a few years back, 
When I with wife did know no lack? 



My sister, Mary, lost her man, 
When Cuban war but just began; 
She'll come to live with me a year. 
And then my babes will need not fear. 

THE RICH MAN'S ANSWER. 

My friend, I feel for you to-day; 
But fear you'll not be able pay, 
As once you did in days that's past. 
Till years ago there came the last. 

It came that year when Jerry went, 
Where all must go when life is spent — 
He used bo back your ev'ry note, 
And cast with us his ev'ry vote. 



617 



But things have changed since then y*ou know, 
And time will never backward flow; 
You must give me security, 
Or anchor on Eternity. 



Your farm's no use to you or me- 
Your mill's as still as still can be; 
Go try some other banker bold; 
For I cannot be left in cold. 



I'm sad to see you in such state, 
And yet you've come to me too late; 
I fear these farms that waters reach; 
And think they should men better teach, 



Than trust to them the season round, 
When farms on high are easy found; 
Come back, my friend to deal with me, 
When grain is good as good can be. 



018 



The rich man died that very year; 
And none there were who shed a tear 
For him who helped himself alone; 
And for his sins did ne'er atone. 



His wife went veiled to hide her face, 
Tho' soon she soothed her grief with place 
In mansion fair as second wife 
To one who kept in constant strife 



The husband of her early love 
By schemes and plans not known above 
To angels fair who bending low, 
Look down to see men better grow. 



The poor man lived to see his farm 
Relieved from ev'ry cause of harm; 
And passed at last beyond the skies, 
Where land ne'er floods nor Hope e'er dies. 



619 



fraternal Department 

C^* 0^*' tt?* 

The Fellows Odd in massive hall, 

Are bound by chain of three small links, 
Obey each just and righteous call; 

And each from fountain, holy, drinks. 



These Fellows Odd are rightly named; 

For righteousness and truth and love, 
Are all the faults for which they're blamed; 

And these inherit from above. 



Their halls are clean and pure and good; 

Because they live for fellowman. 
And in their halls a sisterhood, 

Rebekahs aye the gulf doth span, 



620 



That stands a chasm in life's way. 

As hate for hate so long return 
By those whose eyes should love, aye, say 

As hearts in love for others burn. 



In sickness, health or hapless hate 

This order, true to truth doth stand; 

And, ever open, wide her gate, 

For those begirth with Truth's own hand. 



Oh live your life so strong and pure; 

Go nurse your sick who grateful feel 
Your life, your love will aye endure; 

For hope doth keep thy vessel's keel. 



621 



Free Masonry! deep mystery! how long 
Thou hast been fraught with wisdom from the 

past, 
So dim, so dark, so distant now that song 
Of bard or words once penned on vellum fast, 
Can throw no light on history's bright page, 
To tell us whence ye came or where or why: 
Thou art so old thou dost the oldest age 
With papyrus or pen of steel defy. 
Ye first were fraught in dawn perhaps to balance 

rage. 

Free Masonry! ye first on earth were formed: 
It matters not to us or when or where — 
One thing we know the wrong thou hast aye 

stormed, 
From whence ye came is neither here nor there. 
Some say when Solomon his temple built, 
Ye first held sway to punish vilest crime 
Of him whose heart, whose head, whose hand had 

Guilt 
In thought, in plan, in deed, in darkest time; 
Thus slew the first great architect sublime. 



622 



Free Masonry before the temple reared 
Its form so proud that highest point did find 
Was hidden deep in every heart and mind, 
A place in heaven that God's own throne neared. 
Free Masons guard their chambers most remote 
By men whose lives on altars would be slain 
Before a spy should cross the threshold, note 
The mystic symbols, signs or secrets gain. 
Free Masonry has been, is, and shall aye remain. 
Free Masonry is the soil from which spring 
All orders that this Union great doth know. 
Free Masonry all burdens bear on wing 
All signs and symbols, promises do show 
In every order that to day is known 
That days agone they shaped their course by craft, 
That owns the square and compass as is shown 
The others build on Masons' plan and raft, 
Which bears their very roof is from Masons en- 
graft. 



623 



Free Masonary thou mother of the earth, 
Whose children stretch their tents to east and 

west 
And north and south — these had been very death, 
The Fellows Odd, the Pyramids and rest, 
That bask in ease on Fortune's billowed tide. 
Had known no life without the compass true. 
They lean on thee who dost the storm aye ride, 
Tho' fierce the gale and clouded all the blue. 
Free Masons, what you taught me once I'll never 

rue. 



624 



Head at Memorial Service. 

O Woodman we have seen thy face, 
Where now we see an empty place; 
The forest tall before thee fell 
By sturdy stroke in dale and dell. 

O Woodman, thou didst forward hew 
Thy way as we kept thee in view; 
Thou hast for years thy strength displayed, 
Or else we had been oft dismayed. 

O Woodman, by thy sturdy stroke, 
Were found full oft our camp fire's smoke, 
Where curled so far beyond our sight 
To leave us aye in endless night. 

Dost thou while borne on distant stream 
Behold our axes all agleam? 
Dost thou join us in camp by fire 
With hand your own on heaven's lyre? 



625 



Canst thou not hear thy brethern say, 
O Woodman, why so long away? 
O Woodman, from that land of light, 
Canst thou not see our endless night? 



Bring back thy blade as keen as light; 
And strike aside this endless night. 
Thine axe hangs by so dull and still; 
And make no sound on dale and hill. 



O Woodman, time has laid thee low; 
But many sweet w^reaths on thy brow 
The crowns, the wreath of worth. 
Which Truth owes thee from day of birth. 



026 



^be 1Rebehab0^ 

You sped thro' space on lightsome wing; 

And doth o'er us thy magic fling. 
In time now gone, we were so cold, 

That naught could stir our hearts but gold. 



Ref. Our love's with thee — 
There let it be; 
Our love is thine — 
Thou art divine. 



Rebekah thou has us well shown, 

In life and love beside thee grown; 

Like man and wife we watch with care, 
And each the others honors share. 



627 



Rebekah rests on angel wing; 

And doth our order glory bring. 
Prom her on us great glories fall, 

Each time on us she deigns to call. 



Our love to thee thou wilt aye keep, 

While climb we life's great rocky steep ^ 

You're bound to bless by promise true; 

And true you'll be while bends the blue. 



628 



Ye Pyramids as mystic as your name — 
As great as Egypt is your fame; 

As pyramids do acres hide, 

Whose mighty peaks in sky reside: 



So you will grow to hide the age; 

And throne yourself on heaven's page. 
As none now know how once were formed 

Those mighty towers often stormed; 



So 'tis with you, O Pyramid, 

No price reveals the myst'ry hid, 

As they for ages held the grain, 
So you for ages will remain. 



629 

<40> 



And as they held the dust of kings. 
The Pyramid to us now brings 

The relics of a mighty past— 

You will survive the very last. 



As pyramids, our only hope 

To show us the cultured scope, 

That days long gone now bring to light; 
So Pyramids you banish night, 



From our dear land, which else might be 
So dearth of kindness but for thee. 

You long have borne the stormy blast; 
And may you stand till day, the last. 



630 



IkniQbte of pi^tbiae* 

Knights of Pythias, strong and bold, 

A relic of the days of old, 
When knights and barons held their sway; 

And forced great kings to give them way. 



Your order much doth me remind, 

Of days when knights alone were kind; 

And spent long days and bitter nights 
In winning all the weak their rights. 



They forced the fight in forest dim 
To free the fair in castles grim; 

And forced the fierce to free the fair, 
Tho' dashed to death in lion's lair. 



In days of peace you hate the wrong, 
As much as hero in the song, 

Who dashed to death Goliath bold; 
And bro't back Israel to the fold. 



631 



You stand to aid each other now, 

Par more than king whose haughty brow, 
Is diademed to show his might 

To aid his people in the right. 



Your duties do not wait till Death, 

Has ta'en thy brother's latest breath. 

But you've begun your work of love; 
And will be faithful as a dove. 



You learn to love before "Too late," 
Inscribed may be on heaven's gate. 

Your kindness all the world doth know — 
It comes from heaven here below. 



632 



tCbe H. ®. in. M. 

O Order, well thou hast been named; 
For union long thou hast been famed. 
You aid the living for the dead ; 
And ne'er give stone for fish instead. 



You help the husband better live; 
And when he 's gone, his widow give 
A chance to dwell on God's fair soil, 
Tho' husband can no longer toil. 



You help the orphan while he's weak — 
The day will come when he will speak, 
Of you as one who gave him chance, 
In this cold world to make advance. 



You aid this nation much each year; 
And to each state you are most dear. 
All o'er this land you help men gain 
So much that life is not in vain. 



633 



Your order many orphans train; 

And help strong men their rights regain. 

To-day so many honored be, 

Who might go beg if not for thee. 

You press the laurel on the brow 
Of Labor that doth honor now 
The Ancient Workman for his pains, 
That help all to much greater gains. 



The day will come when we shall know 
How great from thee the blessings flow. 
You have brought plenty to our race; 
And can aye look us in the face. 



634 



JLhc ffirotberboob. 

Well are ye named, ye noble race, 

That stares each danger in the face. 

Each stands by each or day or night; 
And never will a brother slight. 



You brave the gale, the storm, the fire; 

And from the danger ne'er retire. 
You place your honor in the van; 

And hold your own aye man to man. 



You hold your place thro' storm and shade, 
In silent night thro' glen and glade: 

You tread your freights thro' icy sleet; 
And dare to do each danger greet. 



When passenger lies fast asleep, 

You are alert on mountaia steep: 

You watch for mark and sign and tree, 
To know just where you ever be. 



635 



The world of tho't on you depend; 

Your life to us you ever lend. 
O Brothers all, so staunch, so true, 

You are as sure as bending blue. 



You pass the darkness of the night, 

While long to see those faces bright 

Of wife and child you leave behind, 
Who never vanish from your mind. 



Your dangers make you strong and brave; 

You are more brave as nears the grave. 
Tho' others lose their better mind, 

You are to others true and kind. 



Oh, long may your great order last, 

Till life, and death, and all are past; 

And then we hope to find your name 
On books beyond, eternal fame. 



636 



Zhc IRo^al 1Re(Qbbor0- 

The Royal Neighbors to us give 

Their lives that we may better live; 

The Royal Neighbors to us came, 
And never now can die our fame. 



Bef. O sisters bright, 
Ye banish night; 
And campers wild, 
Make sweet as child^ 



O woman since you came to camp, 

The light of love is flung from lamp, 

That once hung dim in lighted hall 
Till you on us at last did call. 

Bef. 

O Neighbor, true, your soft'ning light 

Drives from our midst our endless night; 

O Neighbor, fair, it will be day, 

As long as thou with us dost stay. 



Bef. 



637 



Z\)c Sone an& BauQbtere of 3u6tice. 

Your plan is for our good well wrought; 
You have long years for justice fought; 
And now you bring a scheme about, 
Which puts the false to sudden rout. 



We greet you with a pleasant smile; 
And know you will the youth beguile, 
To share with Sons and Daughters right; 
And learn the false thro' you to slight. 



We learn the logic of your plaa ; 
And stand by it aye man to man. 
When Death doth come his own to take, 
The living find you no mistake. 



638 



You clothe the naked, hungry feed — 
Your wealth doth come in greatest need. 
You have a right in this fair land; 
We now to you extend our hand. 



May you abide while this world swings; 
And while the vault of heaven rings, 
With sounds of praise for what is right; 
And may you shine like star at night. 



639 



Zt)c JEastern Star. 

O morning Star that now doth rise, 
Beside the Mason none despise: 

Your light, your love, a ling'ring ray, 
That ushers in our glory-day. 



Our glory-day it well may be; 

Since to the east we haste with thee. 
You lingered long before you came, 

To throw a halo round our name, 



Like that dear Star in eastern sky, 

That to all doubt makes sweet reply, 

You promised us the night had past; 
And glory-day had come at last. 



640 



We look with dread upon tkat night, 

Before you came with soft'ning light, 

To drive the coward dark away; 
And bring to us an endless day. 



The night we had is all forgot — 

No day can be where thou art not: 

All heaven-light around thee cling; 
Thou dost to us all blessing bring. 



641 



2)emitte& an& ®(0lo69e5. 

"How are you now, my friend,'! he cried, 
' 'I am quite ill, ' ' the man replied. 

"I have no claim on your great lodge, 
Tho' never I my dues did dodge. 



'I was demitted days gone by; 

And on you now do not rely. " 
'What wealth have you on hand to-day? 

Is it enough to pay your way?" 



"I have two dollars in my purse: 

And after that may come my curse." 

''The curse and you will never meet— 
Your bills are paid across the street. 



64: 



Your grocer, doctor, none will fail — 
I on the lodge will well prevail. 

Just have your time, and comfort take; 
You shall be fed, and no mistake." 



The church to which the sick belonged, 

Had not his place in numbers thronged; 

Because they said they'd not "invest" 
In him who paid some less than rest. 



643 



national Depanmeni 

^w ^pw f^t ^pw 

Cana^a• 

O Canada, sweet northern clime, 

With men so brave, so true, sublime; 

And women fair as fair can be, 
As true, as loyal and as free. 



O Canada, with forests grand, 

With people free in all your land: 

You never lashed the back of slave 

In land that meets three oceans' waves. 



You have a people well content; 

Because their lives in thee are spent. 
They live in light and liberty 

Beneath her own sweet Majesty, 



Whose empire travels with the light; 

Whose empire knows no sunless night. 
Most Gracious Victorian Queen, 

Doth love that land she ne'er has seen. 



644 



O Canada, your laws, your light, 

All come from England's glory-bright. 

Which ages long to her have brought; 
Tho' many nations vainly sought. 



O Canada, so rich in soil, 

That England gained by so much toil. 
Your burdens light upon you rest — 

Old England truly you have blest. 



You stretch your soil from sea to sea, 

O bright and fresh aye happy lea, 
Whose hardy race for England fights — 
^ You bear the world so many lights. 



Mackenzie and Macdonald brought 

Great glory by divers means sought 

To land as fair and aye as true, 
As any now beneath the blue. 



645 
(41) 



^0 jEnolant). 



O England whence our fathers came; 

O England of untarnished name; 
O England, Mistress of the sea; 

O England with your islet lea. 



Your ships agleam on ocean wide 
For many nations will decide 

Their law, their language and their love 
For thee whom God sent from above. 



O England with your mighty past, 
You have our lot for time o'ercast. 

On England long ago you came; 
And gave to us our early fame. 



646 



O England with thy Saxon blood, 

We haste to fame as rushing flood, 

Bears all before its mighty sway; 
So foes to us will aye give way. 



O England, mother of our race, 

May we to-day with thee keep j)ace 

To plant our flag, the flag to free 

All men tho' savage they may be. 



O England linked to thee by birth, 

May we with thee the world engirth, 

With ships agleam on every sea 
To carry peace from lea to lea. 



647 



flrelanb* 

O ''Emerald Isle," sweeter than your name; 

O "Emerald Isle" wonderful your fame. 

Hibernia, a gem God- set in deep; 
Your path thro' ages, rocky and so steep. 



O Island, thou art fairest in the main; 

Thy stormy struggles stern, have not been 
vain. 

They seemed to serve the slave or servile king; 
But yet to us great blessings they did bring. 



For years they bound us close to Ireland's side; 
For years our ships so swift to Ireland ride: 
And never empty left this side the main; 

For aid to thee we could not long detain. 



For years you fought to find the land your own, 
Which gave you birth; and is it not well 

known 
That he who lives to toil and till the ground, 

Has title clearer than a lord has found? 



648 



And then, O Ireland, brave and strong and true 
You struggled under men you never rue — 
The Butts, O'Connell's, O'Neils, Donnells, 

McCarthyites and self-sustained Parnells. 



But why continual strife from age to age? 
Doth history not tell on her fair page 
That you determined not to be a slave 

To England just across the Channel's wave? 



Then has not England yielded one by one 

To your demands and won the world's "well 

done?" 
She grants "domestic rule" to you to-day; 

Because you fought to govern self alway. 



649 



Then too, the creed, the church of your own choice, 
Has been freed by O'Connell's sweetest voice 
In English Parliament once so well known, 

To plead for right as has long since been shown. 



O Ireland Cromwell-crushed in days of yore 

Stand staunch, strive, struggle on for ever 

more. 
God-given Gladstones will come to thine aid, 

As sure as Love himself has by you staid. 



O Emerald-tinted gem set in blue, 

As beautiful as maiden's tell-tale hue, 
Which mute its way doth steal and serves 
reveal 

Her love to him before he her doth appeal. 



()oO 



Scotlanb* 

O land with race not conquered yet; 

A race the world can ne'er forget; 
A race as hardy as your soil; 

A race that none could ever foil. 



O land whose clans have been most fierce, 
Till taught of Him whom men did pierce; 

Your stubborn soil has trained men true, 
Till none a Scotchman ever rue. 



Your Bruces, Malcomes and your Grames 

Have well been matched by English dames, 

Who sat enthroned in Scottish chair 
To beard the lion in his lair. 



651 



O Scotchman in your mountains fast, 
You aye have conquered at the last, 

Unconquered you to England yield; 

And now Old England you will shield. 



O Scotchman glory great you bring 

To him enthroned as England's king. 

In war Scotch Grays can find no match 
She honors high for England snatch. 



The Scotch are great in ev'ry place — 

They look the world square in the face : 

They fear no foe tho' fierce his hate; 

They cling quite close to heaven's gate. 



652 



(Bermani?. 

O Germany, whose stalwart race 

Can look the world straight in the face; 
Because your institutions true, 

Are fair as aught beneath the blue. 



You train your men to carry arms, 

And thus rest free from war *s alarms. 

Your music aye is in the van; 
You fear no foe in any man. 



Your creed, your church, your country true, 

No nation ever needs to rue; 
For they will bless, but never curse, 

And aid all hands to well-filled purse. 



O Germany, you foremost stand, 

Upheld by God's own mighty Hand, 

O Germany, your well-run race. 

Has won for you the highest place. 



653 



Sweben. 

O Sweden sweet as flowing rill; 

And yet as staunch as mighty hill, 
That back your wave-washed, happy home; 

And reach God's blue and endless dome, 



O Sweden tho' thou art so small. 

Thou canst give light to nations all; 

For in thy diet thou dost stand 
The envy of a greater land. 



Ay, Sweden all thy native blood. 

Would stain thy snows or rivers flood, 

Before a foreign foe should find 
A slave in you to suit his mind. 



O Sweden^ with your mighty past, 

You held your own in mountain fast; 

And well I know you '11 worthy be 
Of greatest nation we can see. 



654 



Ifrance* 

Pair France the land of chivalry and romance, 
That aye doth ev'ry science first advance; 
The proudest, most polished, and rarest race, 
That keeps her time too quick for Time's own pace. 



Thy dashing, daring Rosseau and Voltaire; 
Tho' wrong in part showed us how better fare; 
Unmasked the nobles' haughty pride and greed; 
Showed man that man was master of his deed. 



They showed to subjects what they showed to 

kings — 
How each to each is equal in all things; 
They showed how man can rise to equal self; 
And set aside the king's great power and pelf. 



The writings bold of men like these inflame 
The peasant, merchant till in his own name. 
He levels king, noble, church and all wealth; 
So long been hoarded for the caste by stealth. 



65.5 



True, Prance you slew your king, your queen, 

your pride; 
True, your blood drenched the land on ev'ry side; 
True, law and custom hid their heads in shame; 
The clouds that came came all in Freedom's name. 



When all the horizon was wrapt in night; 
And mob-law massed its grim and reckless might. 
Napoleon shone forth like some brilliant star, 
Discovered by sudden cloud-rift afar. 



Then soon, fair Prance, thy force faced other 

lands, 
On Russia's wintry snows or burning sands; 
Sahara's wealth on verge of Egypt's past, 
You forced the fight to free or lose at last. 



At first, fair Prance, you fought to others free, 
That they like you might kings, as they luere, see; 
But then you grandly fought to glory gain, 
And battles bought with blood, but all in vain; 



656 



For ere the eagle flapped his wings on field, 
All gory with life, once his life did shield, 
You learned that lusty love was all he bore, 
Who led you on and on for ever more. 



Napoleon had no higher aim than grow 
Most great o'er graves made grassy-green to show 
How much he knew, how great his skill on plain, 
Where rich the blood of France made next year's 
grain. 



O liberty-loving aye changing France, 
Thou hast since then made glorious advance, 
Till now we know thee lover of the right; 
And ready aye to break the freshest light. 



In Lafayette we see, we know thy worth 

No tyrant shall his throne aye tyrant-girth; 

For French Lafayettes shall ever free 

The great, the good, the true where e'er they be. 



657 



•iSlueen Dictorla. 

Queen Victoria died Jan. 23, 1901, at Oowes, Isle of Wight. 

O England, more than filled with dread, 
Spell- bound before your august dead, 
Right bitter are my tears that fall 
Since now thy Queen is past recall; 
She reigned in land I owe for birth, 
A land for aye in glory girth. 



The scalding drops start down my face; 

I love till now my native place. 

O Queen, so sweet, so good, so pure; 

For heaven's self did aye allure. 

O Queen, a nation's idol lost — 

How much your death the world has cost! 



O Queen, aye first, in truth, and love, 
Like God, himself, in land above. 
O Queen, the noblest of your race, 
You heaven had within your face. 
O Queen you lived at heaven's gate; 
We know you now; but 'tis too late. 



G5S 



No foe so fierce in all your realm; 
But does to-day with grief e'erwhelm. 
O Queen you fought most fierce yourself; 
And conquered love of praise and pelf. 
O Queen, more fair than flower blows, 
O Queen, more pure than falling snows. 



A thousand hearts their homage beat; 
But one became thy life retreat. 
Your high-born Albert loved afar, 
Was to thy life a ruling star. 
His love of learning lingered still 
In her who loved the vale and rill; 



In her who woed the Scottish hill, 
When dead he was so cold and still. 
Her summer spent in heart of God, 
She gathers flowers from His sod. 
Sweet Albert woed and won a wife, 
Who hated war, and bitter strife. 



659 



Her children learned to love the Good, 
Not yet by us quite understood; 
Because a life, so pure, divine, 
Is hid in Him who called her, "Mine." 
May Albert know his mother's grace; 
Now he has ta'en his mother's place. 



Her subjects' love for her will last. 
When death and time and all are past. 
Her subjects learned more simple be — 
Not one so great, so good as she. 
Her mercy like the promise-bow, 
Did bend o'er all, the high, the low. 



Her love is felt in ev'ry clime; 

The heathen knows her all sublime. 

Great kings afar their homage pay, 

As birds do sing their roundelay 

To Him, who doth them blessings bring; 

To Him, they own their Heaven-King. 



660 



A woe- won wave — all ocean's swell; 
So sad it strikes a sullen knell. 
The land, all draped, a stubborn night; 
The good, the great, has ta'en her flight. 
Her flight? ah, no! she aye will stay; 
Her life still lives — it is not clay. 



Gray Minster wide her portals fling; 
For Death hath still her venomed sting. 
Place! backward bear, ye ages past; 
Your Queen is first, and shall be last. 
Turn pale, ye urns; give place and meet; 
Your noblest comes; give place and greet. 



661 
<42) 



^0 0la&0tone* 

O Gladstone, sleep in calm disdain, 
Of those who would a throne regain, 
O Gladstone, on whose open brow. 
We know the light of heaven now. 



O Gladstone, in whose mighty mind 
A god enthroned we ever find — 
The god of truth and right and love. 
As pure as He who reigns above. 



O Gladstone, ever in the right. 
You banish aye our endless night; 
O Gladstone, mighty as the race. 
To whom we yield an honored place. 



O Gladstone, with thy life so sweet, 
We find in thee all virtues meet; 
O Gladstone with form aye divine. 
Shine on this dim, dark life of mine. 



662 



^0 ^enn?0on» 

O Tennyson, whose mellow light, 
Doth overflow my day or night; 

In you all glories seem to blend, 

As hours with you in bliss I spend. 



O Tennyson, you stand alone, 

With ne'er a fault to make atone. 

O Tennyson, thou art divine. 

As strikes your light on soul of mine. 



O Tennyson, so oft I meet 

Your face, your form upon the street; 
And when all muses round me play, 

I know you are not far away. 



O Tennyson, whose mighty art, 
I fail to show in humbler part. 

Give me a ray of that great light. 

You need not now in land so bright. 



663 



O Union stronger far than death, 
You make the mighty hold their breath; 
Since Dewey sank the Spanish fleet, 
The great and small give rev'rence meet. 



Your flag doth float on ev'ry sea; 
And kisses breeze by ev'ry lea. 
Your flag that never knew disgrace, 
Now borne above the greatest race. 



A Washington our flag did plan — 
The world knows not a purer man. 
He made a nation back pursue; 
And many battles they did rue. 



A Lincoln, Garfleld, and a Grant, 
Too noble were for sham or cant — 
The lives they lived we feel to-day; 
Their dust alone returned to clay. 



664 



Union, envy of each race, 
You stand 'fore God aye face to face; 
You bring the light from all the past — 
You are now first and shall be last. 



Your soil, your sons, full freedom know; 
You have more light than aught below. 
The sons who come from over-sea 
Their freedom find on thy dear lea. 



There is no land so dear to me; 
For I with thee am ever free. 
I hope thy flag that floats so free, 
Shall girdle all the world for thee. 



665 



miscellaneous. 

i^ ^ ^ 

ttbe jEnQltab flDea&ow OLarh. 

I sit and look across the years; 

And hear sweet music in my ears: 
It is sweet music from afar; 

And seems to come from distant star. 



It is a lark so modest trae, 

All bent on praise in yon bent blue. 
She is close hid from our dim sight; 

But lost in love, and Love's own light. 



O lark, why leave the meadows gay; 

And pass so far from nest away? 
Why dost thou leave thy fledgling new? 

Is it for light a clearer view? 



Thou canst not tell thy love to God, 
Amid the flowers in his sod. 

Thou must adore thy God, alone, 

Where he is seated on His throne. 



666 



O bird you pass beyond our ken; 

And little care for sight of men: 
We hear thee far beyond our sight; 

And know thou art in heaven's light. 



O bird, you bring much blame to mind— 
My toil is ail for men I find. 

You leave your burden on the ground; 
But mine, from me, is never found. 



O lark, in love you go on high 
In love return to duty nigh. 

O lark, you build on lowest ground; 
Altho' your song is highest found. 



66" 



Z. Elmer Xuce?- 

The author met the poet, T. Elmer Lucey of Atlanta, Ga., in 
Oswego, July 5th, 1900; and in the presence of the latter wrote: 

O Caroline my Friend so sweet, 

May we some day forever meet, 
Where Lucey may bear all the light; 

And drive from me this endless night; 



For Lucy's love I shall secure, 

Where heaven's light for aye endure. 
Our time so brief has bro't relief 

To me; for I have all belief 



In thee and thine; thy past and now; 

And feel that in the dim somehow 
Somewhere, some when, some why, 

When greater thou, I shall reply 



In humble way express my love 
To thee altho' thou 'It be above 

My plans, my pains, my pen my will; 
And yet as now I'll love thee still. 



668 



Zo le^mn 1R. 1barri0» 

To Edwin R, Harris, of Parsons Kans. author, "The Half Has 
Never Been Told; or the Alpha and Omega," whom the author met la 
Feb. 1901 in Oswego Kansas. 

My friend, with tho't to God so near, 

Your life to me is ever dear; 
Because you strike the sordid mind, 

With tho't in God each day you find. 



Your life in love to Him you spend, 
Who will to all His glory lend, 

That listen long His voice to hear; 
And throw aside all guilty fear; 



The fear that comes from loss of wealth — 
The fear that makes men rich by stealth, 

Is strange to thee, thou noble scribe. 
Who never knew the force of bribe. 



May youi" work tell the other half, 
A mine of wealth in our behalf, 

Who now aspire to higher life, 

Beyond this mean and petty strife! 



669 



To Prof. J. N. Whybark, Carthage. Mo., author "Child's Music 
Course." 

O Friend, so ^rand, so good, so true. 
Like Him who bends from yonder blue 
Thy time, thy toil, thy talents all, 
Belong to Him who did thee call; 



And give to thee all children's love, 
As pure as God, himself above. 
I know He moves thee by His art, 
To bear for Him so manly part. 



670 



Somebody knows th-e tough that fought; 

Somebody knows how votes are bought: 
Somebody knows the gossip new; 

Somebody keeps the vile in view. 



Somebody knows the hidden tear; 

Somebody knows the lurking fear; 
Somebody's hand is soft and mild; 

Somebody soothes the dying child. 



Somebody bets to make and win; 

Somebody sells the curse ""d gin; 
Somebody gives another pain; 

Somebody brings that awful stain. 



071 



Somebody dies in fear and pain; 

Somebody would this world regain; 
Somebody's name makes mother blush; 

Somebody's shame others crush. 



Somebody dies — no regret; 

Somebody — our tears are wet; 
Somebody in heaven now; 

Somebody with gloried brow. 



672 



Iklonbigftes Ibi&ben. 

Each man is master of his fate, 

May fling wide open Fortune's gate; 

Each one with nerve and force and will; 
May find new fields to conquer still. 



Where shall I find this boundless wealth? 

To-day the rich grow rich by stealth. 
How shall / shine like some good star, 

That keeps its place in heaven far? 



Your klondyke is your wealth of mind, 
That in yourself you aye may find. 

If this fine tale you now detest, 

Just try it, Friend, is my request. 



I eat, I sleep, I walk, I talk — 
At ev'ry turn of life I balk: 

I am a dog in manger strong. 

To bark at all that come along. 



673 



I spend my days and weeks in rage; 

Or bend my eyes on sacred page. 
I read the vilest trash I find; 

Or fill my life with God's own mind. 



I doze, I daze, I dream away 

The time I ought with God to stay. 
When sin's exprest, I take my flight; 

Or plunge in it to eudless night. 



My life is centered in myself: 

I spend it all for praise or pelf. 

I have each day my peace with God; 
Or feel the force of his fierce rod. 



I go to battle on the plain, 

And leave the ground all gory stain; 
Or with God's Book I bless His race. 

And live with Him aye face to face. 



674 



The glist'ning dew-drop on the blade, 
Reveals you sun that God has made; 

So may my life present my God, 
As doth His daisy in the sod. 



I wrangle, jangle with my kind; 

Or all their hearts in love I bind. 
J^o force outside can me degrade; 

1 am myself just what I've made. 



My health is just what I desire; 

I am what most I now admire. 
My health is just what I have bought, 

By years of toil and stubborn thought. 



I am, myself, this dark world's light; 

And sweep apast my endless night; 
I am as much the son of God, 

As He who felt the awful rod. 



675 



Like Him I must be nailed to tree, 
If I like him am heaven-free. 

Like Him I must this dark world fight, 
If I would pass to endless light. 



Like His, my hands, my feet must be 

Firm nailed while flows my blood most free. 

Like him I'll stand all staunch alone, 
Till God shall lift me to His throne. 



I know just what I want to learn; 

I have just what I want to earn. 
E'en heaven's self can never give 

More bliss than this in which I live. 



I am jast what I want to be; 

I see just what I want to see; 
I go just where I want to go; 

I do just what I want to do. 



676 



I have no single hour to waste; 

I'm not so foolish as to haste; 
Tho' Vice may haste to gain an end, 

Sweet Virtue waits a stauncher friend. 



I have the church of my own choice, 
Where I go mad; or aye rejoice; 

It is my own, tho' naught to Him, 
Who satisfies my every whim. 



This world is just the world I make; 

I have in it just what I'll take. 
I live just where I want to live; 

And give just what I want to give. 



My next will be a world of bliss; 

If I but live in love in this; 
Because the next is ruled by Him, 

Who governs this; but not by ivhim. 



677 
(43) 



I am now nursed in Splendor's hue, 
Beneath the ever bending blue; 

I form a diadem in air 

Of all the world I'm fairest fair. 

The sun to me his glory lends; 

His ev'ry hue for me he bends. 

I am a gem of God's own brow, 

The "bow of promise, " you see now; 

I circle all the throne of God; 

Yet springle daisy in the sod: 

I am a mantle on the plain; 

And yet in air I still remain. 

I am as white as mountain snow; 

And yet as dark as mine below. 
I hide the evening star from sight; 

And wrap your world in mantle tight. 
I speak in thunder's awful voice; 

And yet the plains on earth rejoice. 



678 



I carry lightning-bolts with speed; 

And cleave the oak like river-reed. 
I shake my dewey wings in air; 

And Howers flourish, fairest fair. 
When battles bloody red the plain, 

I sweep away the horrid stain. 

I change my form and face and hue; 

But never yet did what I rue. 
I am as honest as the life 

I keep from bitter, useless strife. 
I keep the flower fresh, that God 

Has given place upon the sod. 

I make a circle round the moon; 

And bring a storm to you full soon. 
I make a girdle for the sun, 

Where fresh her rubies have begun 
To gleam and glitter in the air; 

And then we know Old Sol so fair. 



679 



I pass so swift o'er mountain, plain; 

Yet fierce volcanoes will remain; 
As horrid sights I once have seen, 

Before I found the sunny sheen, 
That forms great rainbows on my floor, 

Which may be seen thro' my tent's door. 



I push aside my curtains wide; 

And then the gods cannot decide 
Between the sky in lake so true, 

And that which lies in yonder blue. 
There is each star that twinkles still 

In patch of blue in water's rill. 



My roof's so thin that angels bend, 

As o'er they walk and rainbow lend 

The shape we see in circling form — 
The "bow of promise" after storm. 

They cling upon my gloried hue; 

And shape me like the bending blue. 



680 



I once was dead and in my grave, 

While far above the moaning wave, 

In dirges dismal marked the spot; 
Or else I had been all forgot. 

My grave was far from mortal ken — 

So deep it ne'er was known to men. 



I still am black as mane^d night 

Kxcept Ms presence makes me bright, 

Who called me forth from that deep main, 
Where ages hid I did remain. 

My colors change from day to day 
As he is near or far away. 



He rocks me in his mighty arms; 

And keeps me free from all alarms. 
I lose my form, my place, his face; 

But ne'er can lose his endless grace. 
I change but ne'er can cease to be — 

My life will last as long as he. 



681 



The following little poem was not intended for this or any other 
book, but it was written by Bertie, the author's eleven- year-old 
boy, who lives near Kenton, Ontario, Canada, with his grandpapa, 
Mr. Arthur Anderson: and mailed the author in a letter, which 
reached Oswego March 4, 1901. In the letter Bertie said, among much 
else; "I don't know whether I ever told you that my talent was 
school teaching* * * * i have wrote one piece of poetry with two 
stanzas in." It was as follows : 

Mbat (5o& (Save llle. 

God gave us a beautiful nose to smell, 
And a heart to love Him and escape hell, 
He gave us a tongue to taste 
Candies and cakes and all kinds of paste. 



He gave us a voice to-talk nice and clear 

And he sent us the Lord Jesus, lo comedown here. 

Although he gave us a great many things 

He gave all the birds each one pair of wings. 



682 



Tm 3free. 

I'm free as breeze that blows on sea; 

I'm free as bird that crosses lea; 
I'm free as barque aye homeward bound; 

I'm free as bird in woodland found. 



I'm free as air that boundless lies 

To wrap the earth beneath the skies. 

I'm free as rose that blows on tree; 

And breathes sweet fragrance all for me. 



As rainbow curves itself in cloud, 

And there it's beauty all is found; 

So I may turn to God my mind, 

And God's own likeness must me find. 



I'm free to love but not to hate; 

I'm free to linger at the gate, 
Which opens wide upon the light. 

Where angels know no day or night. 



683 



I'm free to serve the God they love; 

I'm free to place my tho't above; 
I'm free to do my Master's will; 

I'm free as flows the bubbling rill. 



I'm free to watch the bending blue, 

While float apast the clouds so true; 

So true; because they tell the tale 
Of sun, or storm, or swiftest gale. 



I'm free to love but not to hate; 

I'm free to wait at God's own gate 
For message like the docile dove; 

Then tell to men that "God is love. " 



684 



Purity and Power go hand-in-hand; 

Purity and Power govern this land; 
Purity and Power eternal mates; 

Purity and Power decide our fates, 



Purity and Power can ne'er divorce; 

Purity and Power good Fortune force; 
Purity and Power all heaven knows; 

Purity and Power all heaven grows. 



Purity and Power no trouble know; 

Purity and Power from heaven flow; 
Purity and Power this nation freed; 

Purity and Power can know no greed. 



Purity and Power old England fought; 

Purity and Power our fathers brought. 
Purity and Power will lift from clod; 

Purity and Power belong to God. 



685 



G^ben not IRow. 

In days not yet my ship shall be 

All laden with good for you and me. 

To-day the dark doth fill our sky; 
To-day my heart beats sad reply. 



In days not yet I shall aye see 

The rainbow bend o'er you and me. 

To-day she's storm- tossed far at sea; 
To-day we watch our ship from lea. 



In days not yet I shall go home 

To rest beneath God's lovely dome. 

To-day my foes do fiercer grow; 
To-day the vale is dark below. 



686 



In days not yet the ocean wild, 

Will rest as peaceful as a child. • 

To-day the clouds drift dark and drear; 
To-day my heart is -filled with fear, 



In days not yet my barque, agleam. 

Shall pass down life's smooth, sunlit stream. 
To-day I drift to die alone; 

To-day no Christ seems to atone. 



687 



IHp in a Balloon. 

Balloonist, Prof. Spencer, in Oswego, Fall of 1900, gave the 
author some experiences he had in ballooning. 

Up in a balloon so steep; 

Into the moon I once did peep ; 
All up in that balloon so far 

I could have reached the morning star. 



Just when I sat beneath the sun, 

My parachute swift downward flung, 

By jerk upon the rope so true, 

That left behind the bending blue. 

I looked adown on city tall — 

It seemed child's playhouse, that is all. 
The streets were just a pencil mark, 

I reached a place beyond the lark. 

A row of trees seemed clover-high 

The crowd between them seemed so nigh- 
It might have been a bending leaf. 

That clung like ear upon the sheaf. 



688 



But now the pendulum I swing, 

While to my bar I madly cling; 

I swing a hundred feet in space 

While anxious look for landing place. 



I must that house beneath me dodge; 

And not on fence a moment lodge. 
I fear that team that's tied secure; 

I must away from them for sure. 



Yes; I am both fence and team-free. 

How can I catch that staunch old tree? 
One hand withdraws as quick as thought, 

And to the limb is quickly brought. 



The limb so brittle in my hand — 

It breaks and how shall I now land? 

My mind was bent upon the tree; 
And I forgot and made me free 



689 



From parachute to which I clung, 

Which from my hand now glibly swung. 

I quickly slid adown the tree; 

And struck the sidewalk, "full and free. 



My arm hung loosely by my side 
And soon a doctor said in pride; 

"I patched your arm in places three; 
And in a month or so you're free. 



Just keep your courage up my boy. 

When you get home there'll be much joy. 

I have been smashed quite oft since then; 
And yet like other foolish men, 



I'll spend my life so wife doth dread; 

And then at last I'll go home dead, 
And yet my babe is my balloon, 

I'll go with her right to the moon. 



690 



Not my own is dawn of day; 
Not my own the lark so gay; 
Not my own the song that rings- 
Heaven 's portal open swings 



Not my own the gray that's cast- 
Dark retreats; the night is past. 
Not my own the bending blue — 
God's own self, so pure, so true. 



Not my own the daylight sweet, 
Bending low the dark to greet; 
Not my own the rising sun; 
Fair the day has just begun. 



Not my own the brooklets flow, 
Till to ocean they will grow; 
Not my own the billowed crest, 
Pointing aye to all that's blest. 



691 



Not my own the flowers wild — 
Each in each sees God's own child; 
Not my own the petaled rose, 
Thorne"^d yet not God oppose. 



Not my own the life I live — 
God owns life His life doth give; 
Not my own His sweetest grace, 
Known to those who see His face. 



All my own that cloud of sin; 
All my own the lack within; 
All my own that bitter woe. 
God above remains my foe. 



692 



He scanned the horse from head to hoof; 

And looked in vain for spavin's proof; 
"The teeth," said he "are to well worn — 

For many years he has fodder torn." 



"He's not a day more than ten year; — 
As I can prove by neighbor Gear" — 

The other said, in quick reply — 

' 'And on this nag you can rely, " 



"He has a spavin there I see, " 

"Oh, no! that's where one used to be; 
I burned that out two years have past; 

And in a race he'll not be last." 



693 
(44) 



"That hip's dropt some, it is quite clear," 
"Oh, well; there's nothing to cause fear; 

When but a colt of only three. 

He fell on ice so don't you see?" 



' 'I cannot give you what you ask — 

To get him in shape is no small task, 

I'll give you ten less and- just risk, 

If he can trot off now quite brisk. " 

The owner of the horse is changed; 

And with tail cropped and mane arranged- 
The white spots near the hoofs made black; 

And harness new upon his back. 



694 



Next day we see him started out, 

So swiftly whirled and turned about — 

So few would know it was "Old Jim," 

That had been bought by one Sam Slim. 



The man who just the day before, 

Declared the horse could nevermore, 

Be used to bring a profit bright. 

Said now the horse was more than right. 



His price had grown in ten short hours; 

Because "Old Jim, " you see was ours, 
In that same time each fault he lost; 

And from now out would doublv cost. 



6t),5 



Xet flDe Iknow Mben II Croaa. 

Let me see the hand that strikes down my life, 
Tho' part none I have in bitter strife, 
Which finds me close on yon river's edge, 
Where never grows the murmuring sedge. 



Let me see the ferry long" and dim, 
Where first I meet with still boatmen, grim: 
Let me know when first I touch the sea. 
Whose boundless surge rise to meet the lea. 



Let me cling a moment, firm and tight, 
'Fore I plunge for aye to endless night, 
Let me grasp, just once, the mane'^d night; 
Before all hopeless I sink from sight. 



Let me, while I cling once backward look; 
And see day's glamoring light, a book 
Opened once, in which I saw or thought 
I saw how life for aye might be bought. 



696 



Nay, more, let me cling to some fond love, 

Gave me faith in life that is above. 

Oh may I on some fond breast recline; 

And hear sweet words, ''Thou art now divine." 



'Pore I reach the searching, surging sea, 
'Fore I lose all mem'ry of the lea; 
'Pore this mortal coil that clings my life, 
Shall loose its hold and cease its strong strife, 



Oh may I not hear the words of One, 
"Thou art all mine, now my will is done?" 
O human heart extend to that place, 
Where I shall meet the new face to face. 



697 



Not my will, O God, brought from the dust 
All I am, is but thy mandate, ''You must, " 
Not my will, O God, has called me hence. 
Wilt thou not, O God, be my defence? 



Not my will, O God, has made ray choice: 
I mourn, I sigh, I weep, or rejoice. 
Just as thou will and ne'er as I will; 
So Gody thou Holy, my next life fill. 

O God, my God tho' I know thee not, 
What shall I be when all is forgot? 
What shall I be in that darksome land, 
No friend, no foe will lead by the hand? 



698 



O Italy, [eternal blue 

Sky-bent o'er thee, a land as true, 
As ever fought eternal shame; 

And gained deserved eternal fame. 



You have your rights with blood aye bought— 
The blood that tyrants aye have sought — 

By base design of bribe and crown, 
Rejected all with fiercest frown, 



You hurled your jav'lins at the foe, 
'Mid shot and shell and awful woe; 

You washed your hands in tyrants' blood: 
And banished all like mighty flood. 



699 



O Italy, fond music — art 

You claim your own — not just a part; 
O Italy where sweetest strain, 

Hath come to us aye to remain. 



O Italy, gave Colon birth, 

Who hath this land in glory 'girth; 
O Italy, may well be proud, 

We'll sing your praises long and loud. 



700 



J N. W. 



PLEASURE IN SINGING. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 




1. We find pleasure 



iu our singing 

N. ^ i"^ ^ J^ ^ 




1 We find pleas - ure in our smg 
2! Should we ev - - er feel dis - cour 
3 For we know that up m heav 



ing That no 

aged, We will 

en There is 




-= 1 m ^ ^ ^ M— 



That no oth-er 



source can give; 



And no trouble 







oth - - er source can give ; And no troub 

seek. . . . some cheerful song;. . ..Always sing 



sing 



ing all the time;. . . .Happy an 



le ev - er 
ing and re- 
gels' voices 



-fs— N— N ^ 



Bit. 



ev - er bor-row, 



W 9 — 9 — »— 1 * ^#. -#■ ■#• -0- 

Happy all the days we li ve,days we live. 

S N ^ ,^ V V I N N I 




^^ 



bor-row, 
joic-ing, 
ring-ing 



(I) 



Hap-py all the days we live. 

Oh, we' re hap - p.Y all day long , 
Praises to our Lord di-vme 

701 



ASHAMED OF JESUS. 



Arthur CreAsy. 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 




— S- 



r 



:\dt 



A-shamed 
A-shamed 

jt 



~0- 
of 
of 



_L- 



T- 



Je - sus, my dear 

Je - sus, whose glo 

_« c ft—^ _^_ 



est friend, Who 
ries find No 
__^ ^ «_ 



X 



It:: 



-H- 



-« 



W 



— « « 

doth to me His glo - ry lend? A-shamed of Je -sus who 
throne on earth ex - cept my mind? As fire - fly flush - ing 
.» e^^fi J # * ^- ^ ^ — •— a — ^*— 



It: 



-i-- 



-^ 



, 


^^ s 


^ i 


S 






\J V 


' r\ i 






^ 1 


jFkn, [7 


s m * 


% ^ m « 


« 




^ m \ 


Wf^S ^ 


« ^ « 


1 p s 




* • 1 


\>-\) 5 . . m- 


r r • 


# 


'.'II 


1 

l)ends the bow, That 
in the night A - 


doth to me 
shamed of heav- 

r « P » 

— 1 1 '~ 


His 

en^s 

— — 
— • — 




mer - 
pur - 

—0 — 


cy show? 
est light? 


=t^^ 




— * -# 1 — 


— 1 — 

— y— 


N L-, J 


-^ -f • 


1 / 










Refrain. 
















^^-s-_ 




k. 


K. 


rv 






V 


: 


1 '^ 1 ' ' ^ 


1 i ' 1 1. "" 


\m) * 








« 


S 


J J ' N - 




* 


ij 




i 


* 


4s 


7^ 4 


; 


A - shamed 

m 


of 


Je - 




sus, 




who 





gave 


* 

me breath? 


A- 


r\* b i 




^ ' ; >. n 


-J*f-2 . . 


I 1 1 1 1 




1 1 


r n 


^ b *» 




j_ 








1- ;- !i -1 


r "^ 




" 












' 1 


/ 


1 


> 


'^ 


u 


L/ 


1 


1^ 1' 


!• 




R= 



:i!=iii 



-K— 1 



-# « ^ «- 

-•• -0- -^ -Sh -0- 



:j=j: 



ii^ 



shamed of Je - sus, who suf-fered death? A-shamed of Him whom 

I S S V S. I V I K. •#> 

1 



-y- 



(2) 



702 




ASHAMED OF JESUS. 

-^ 1 N^ ■ 



an - gels greet By fall - ing pros - trate at His feet? 

m m m m I _ N I ^^ I V 



g^£ 



-=x 



SCATTER SUNSHINE, 

(MAIvE QUARTET.) 



fi^i 



Rosalie Thompson. 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 






i 



5zfzS??: 



lEiEiEl^t 



i y— 

1. O my broth - er, scat - ter sun -shine All a- 

2. Scat- ter sun-shine, scat - ter sun -shine In - to 

3. Let the sun-shine of thy pres - ence Grace the 

4. Scat - ter sun-shine, nor grow wea - ry, For too 

I .SI I I N I J [ ^S_ 



^^^ 



^\f^- 



1 II !-. 




1 


1 


1 


,N 


"t 1 P' -► * 


1 b« 


' 1 J\ 




h hf i-.-^ • 


\Pm 


m J £^ 




^^--V 7 ; 


V r 


S 


2 


fy 


5 • • 1 


|- 1 






long 
bov - 
home 
soon 


1 

life's 

els 

of 

life 

1 


wea 
dark 
toil 
will 

1 


- ry 

with 

and 

be 

1 _ 


path; 
woe; 
care; 
o'er. 


Sun - shine is the 

Do not stop, or 

Let the sick, the 

And the sun- shine 

1 1^ 1 -1 


C\* i, 1 1 


J ' ' 




T»i ? b J* 


e 


m 


« 


fy. 


^ • ^ ^ 


^ b 'V 1 






'/ 7 ! 


1 


1 1 f^ 


L u : 



1 1-. 1 




1 1 


■^-J^rt-5 : * * S 


r *^-i i *— 


_ — . — ^ — 


-f-^-b •-^— f S ^ 


__^__ — 1 p p — 


~5 s — ^ 




r 1^ |- 1 




life of man - y, Bet - ter than the clouds by half, 
ask a ques-tion, Know thy Sav - ior bids thee go. 
sad, the wea - ry. In the bless - ed sun-shine share, 
of thv pres -ence Shall de-scend on yon bright shore. 

^ . ! > \ I ! N 1 1 .. 1 1 1 .. 


^., b 1^ a^^— * m 1| 


~5 — ^ — p — r- 


> al — z^ — ii 


->'- \y \-y ■ ■ • J 




i 1 


^ ? \ ^J * ^ 


* ' * — \ — 1 — 


. 1 .1 ^ II 



(3) 



703 



THE WOODMEN. 



Arthur Creasy. 



(MAIvE QUARTET.) 

J. N. "Whybark. By per. 




1. O Avoodraan, with your ax and wedge, You fell yourtrees by 

2. O woodman,whenyour brother dies, His or -phan child on 

3. O woodman, may voii ev - er live To teach men all their 




3: 



JEt 



t 



rock - y ledge; You wind your way thro' murky dale, And 
you re - lies, And he becomes your chief-est care, And 
best to give; And wiien we meet by camp -ers' fire. In 



pi^ 



^ i 

-'r — - 

Eefrain, 



Wl: 



h^-* 



^^^ 



brave the breeze, aye, fierc-est gale, 
you with him will ev - er share, 
worlds be - youd we'll hear your lyre. 



1 m *-a; U — ^ 



You strike the sound from 



-N-n 



:f:^=.=i=t^ 



U^ 



m 



-N- 






m 



f — \ — t^- 

dale and hill; You strike down trees for stream and mill; O 

•^ — I S-r-T- N — = ^- 



(4) 



I \^ i 



-^>- 



704 



-y — » 



t# 



THE WOODMEN. 

liU. w 



-i^ 



T' 



iEg=i^g rt:g=h=| 



Avoodman,with your ax a-gleam, You voyage fastou life's ,?reat^eam. 
I 



m 



s 



=td: 



^t—^- 



-^^ 



-r^- 



=t: 



m 



Henry W. Longfellow. 



TELL ME NOT. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 






1. Tell me not in mourn-ful num-bers Life is 
2! Life is re - al, life is ear - nest, And the 
3. Not en - joy - ment, and not sor - row, Is our 



314:3=?: 



A- *■ 



* 




but an emp - ty 
yrave is not its 



an emp 
grave is not 
des - tined end or 



m 



dream, For tbe. soul is 
goal; "Dust thou art, to 
wav. But to act that 






f=k 



i 



-<G>r 



-zr 



i 



dead that slum-bers; Things are not just what they seem, 
dust re - turn - est, " Was not spo - ken of the soul, 
each to - mor - row Finds us far - ther than to - day. 



^ 



■0U -0- -0- 



n 



m 



(5) 



705 



MY DOLL. 



arthttr Creasy. 
Solo. Wilh exoression. 




J. N. 


Whybark. 


By per. 




■ V 1 r* 


fc. ^ 










— 


iCb " 


1 


'"> 


1 


■^ 


; 


K 




,^ 


fr^^ tt ^ 












vw O 1^ 





# 


« 





# 









1. My doll 

2. Mv doll 

3. My doll 
n 


is 
is 
to 


gone 

gone 

me 


a - 
a - 
will 


way 
way 
ne'er 


from 
from 
come 


me; 
me, 
back 


I 

Her 
; 1 




\J r 


k. . k. 


1 


iChf ^ 






1 


1'^ 


i 


V 


_ 




— 


fr^'^ « ^ 


; ; , 1 






^7 O j 


d 


« 


« 


. m _. 


4 


^ 




d 


•y J. - -^ -^ -4- -4- 
-#•-#■•♦-♦• 

s^-, — 1 1 , 


H? 


s- 




-0- 

V 




R:-r-6 — ^- 






^=^-i — 






— 1 


— -\ — 


— 


— 


-^ h <1 * 


M - 




m • 




4 


s 





1 




l^ o 


— ^T- 




^#-v- 




s 









— -J 



-N— 



lost her by the ma - pie tree One day last fall, be- 
face so sweet I nev - er see ; Her cheeks were red as 
oft - en wish her I could pack, But mam - ma says she's 



3 



cd: 



ZE 



-^- 



-N— 



^3 



m 



^^■x 



_w ^ ^ ai— ^-^ = ^ # 

fore the snow Came down on all things here be - low. 
Jim's new cap; O doll, I want you on my lap. 
gone a-wa}^, Washed down the stream, and can - not stay. 



^ 



9^ 



"*" 



^i~T 



"^ -0- -0- -0- 



^ :? 



--N- 



(6) 



r06 



MY DOLL. 



Chorus. 



i^f — i 


— ^ ^ ^ 


~^1 


-J — J^^ — ^^ 


I 

n 


-J * ^ 

love my doll 

- — __^i— 1 T" 


so i 


^^? ^ • N— 

5weet and fair, I 


m'^^f^- 


^^ -1 

_5f — ^ — \ — *r ^ 


1 

— #— - 


=fcS ^iFi — 




* * * 

ri — ^— 




' 7 J 7 ■" 


,^ b ^ - 


1 / i 




. ' i ^:l 



s= 



-# — h — 



i ^ 



love my doll v^ith yel - low hair, I love my doll with 



i 



9-^H 



-0 — m — « — ' -«- 






/TV 



-V 



V— 



^ — ^- 



i 



eyes so blue, I love my doll, to me so true. 






# — #- 
■# — #- 



:^ 



^-^-M •> j -r "?-i 



-a •^ 



--4- 



-* a<- 



I 



9i=3= 



xit 



m 



(7) 



lOT 



p 



LITTLE ESSIE, 

{Dedicated to my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Ridgway, Medoc, Mo.) 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 



i^m 



-i^ 




lirta 



1. She is sleep - ing, sweet-ly sleep - ing; Can you 

2. Called a - way be - fore the temp - ter Had be - 

^_i f: ^— n-# a • ^— 



h2± 




m^ 



wish to have her here, Lit - tie broth - er, mourning 
set her feet with snare, Lit - tie sis - ter now is 

ft^±. • #_ ^ ^ .tt C m |*_ • !*! • m 



m 



i=t=: 



:^=t=tE: 



:^=^ 



-P 




^ 



-i^e^ 



r 



gl — c_0 — — : 

par - ents, When she's with our Sav - ior dear? 
hap - py, Ev - er - more is free from care. 



i?=f 



9^^ 



a 



t -| — r 




k 



H 



#-^ 5- 

Not a trace of 
Tho' the path of 



9sfe 



&- 



(8) 



±d?z= 



woe or sor - row E'er can 
life be lone - ly, From whence 



708 



LITTLE ESSIE. 




? 



r 



mar her peaceful brow; Know-ing she is safe in 
sis - ter's smile has flown, Bright-er, sweet - er far in 



rzz± 



N: 



:t= 



-V- 



i 



;^E^^ 



^ 



t 



I 



9^ 



heav-en, Should your sad hearts mourn her now? 
heav-en, In the home where she is gone. 



?: 



J 



I 



EE 



^^ 



I / i/ 1/ 

ALONE IN THE FOREST. 



J. N. W. 



J. N. Whyeark. By per. 




-^^- 



i 



-iS^ 



-• m i#- 

-#■-#■-»■ 



-(Sl- 



-($'- 



-0-S-.\-^ ^ J h- 



1. My life, O let it be, For I am hap-py here; 

2. I'll rove a - mong the woods, And pluck the ros - es pure; 

3. 'TwasGod who made the trees, And all the flow- ers rare, 



^ 



-^-f- 



-^- 



ti: 



.(Z. 



^=^ 



-W- 



^ 



^=^^=^ 



■'&- 



=t 



■=x 



i i\^. 



O with the birds I am so free, I love the for - est dear. 
And hear the birds their car-ols sing, Yes,hear them o'er and o'er. 
Who sends the rain to freshen them, While fragrance fills the air. 



.. y - i # - 



4—1^ ^ ^ 



1(2- 



(9) 



(45) 



709 



1 — i- 



— ' VT" 



GO TO SLEEP. 




J. N. Whybark. By per. 



-* lir 



-'9—i 



-f5>- 



#-' — iS-- 



1. Go to 

2. Now she 

3. By and 

I 



sleep, 
sleeps, 

by, 



go 
ba 
ba 



to 

by 



sleep, 
sleeps, 
dear 



9iyg ^_^= g 




-^— #- 



± 



Go to sleep, my ba - by 

Ba - by's eat - ing up her 

Will a hun - dred ques - tions 



dear, 

thumb ; 

ask; 



-s-^- 




-^5h-i- 



-i&- 



iip 



For in thy slum-bers I'll watch o'er thee keep, 

Won - der what ba - by is dream-ing of now, 

Troub-le and wor - ry she nev - er will see, 

'^ « 1- •— ^-a , ,— n-^ : •- 



i^f 



&,-- 



^ 




i: 



i 



Go to sleep, ba - by, have 

Dream-ing of hap - pi - er times 
And a help - er to me 






,i^3 



-^ 



(10) 



710 



-6>- 



no fear, 
to come, 
at last. 



I— gj-T- 



S^ ' 



i 



THE OLD DUSTY GARMENT. 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 










1. One day while in the at - tic, I chanced to spy a gem 

2. I thought of her; how oft - en For me she used to pray, 



Mi|^E&EEE?=?^ 






:t:=z: 



<9 - 



-•-C^S-^- 







S 

Which caused the tears to stream dowa, Brought back old times a - gain. 
That God, the heav'nly Fa-ther, Might save her boy some day.' 




% 



-s?- 



-^- 



ifcl^Z 



i 



It was a dust-y gar-ment That moth-er used to wear, 
O moth-er, dear-est moth-er, You then were all I had; 



- V~^ I - -XI 



_^. 






-(J2- 



i 




When she on earth was liv-ing; 'Twas more than I could bear. 
I now have none to live for, ' I'm lone-ly here and sad. 



ItIJj 



\— — *f-~-#- 



(II) 



-X 



^=s: 



-&. 



1 



711 



THE RIVER-SIDE. 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 




1. Come, lads and lass - es, go with me Down 

2. The moss - es cling to rock and tree, In- 
sing - ing in the trees, And 
long to steer my boat, And 
made the riv - er - side, The 



The birds are 
'Tis there I 
'Twas God that 




by the ver-dant riv - er-side; 'Tis there where man- y 
vit-ing is this rest -ing place; Oh, now 'tis there I 
cheer-ing all that lin - ger there; So cool and fresh the 
gath-er rush-es as I float; And see the fish - es 
cause of wa-ters' on-ward glide; 'Twas He who made the 




§L«i 



flow'rs we'll see: Yes, there is where they now a - bide, 
long to be, Where man - y pleas - ures I can trace, 
soft - est breeze, There's sweetest fra-grance in the air. 
'neath my oar, As fa - ther did in days of yore. 

grass that grows, The trees, the rocks, the wind that blows. 

rts -0- -0- ■0- I 

^ * P -, t" 1"—^- «— r-^ »— T 



-t^ 



k 



:t=: 



:p: 




Chorus. 



■4^ 



* 0- 



-§ 0- 



Come, lads and lass - es, 






go 



with me, Down 



-t^ 



(12) 



712 



THE RIVER-SIDE. 

/IN 




where all na - ture is so free; Come now, and go with 




me to - day, Where birds and flow-ers are so gay. 



M^^m 



^ 



m 



J. N. W. 



ONE LITTLE WORD. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 



:ii=:3(=^: 



:^=3^=i!: 



--1 ^^-J^4-^ 



1. One little word, when spo-ken To souls who've gone astray, 

2. Just a lit - tie ear-nest praying For en - e - my or friend, 

3. When working here for Je - sus, He watches us with care, 






-?f-^ 



:!= 



t: 






f 



K 



-^- 



T: 



I — I 



:«-^ 






May cause their hearts to soft-en, And bring them back some day. 
May keep us all from straying, And save us in the end. 
And as we work He helps us, Yes, helps us in our pray'r. 



sm 



-/^^ 



(13) 



ri3 






DREAMING, DREAMING. 




John A. Joyce. 

u Largo. ( Very slowly.) 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 



■¥=? 



iS: 



i^ 



-t^>- 



-»- 



■-sir 



r 



-^ 



-(^^ 



-zs'- 



1. Dream-ing, dream -ing, on - ly seem-ing That I 

2. Think- ing, think- ing, light - ly link -ing All the 

■^ #— ^^ <? , g «- 



t 



'f^ 



^2- 



-1^- 



?= 



-15^- 



f 



-4^^ 



-fS- 



^ 




loved you years a - go; Weep- ing, weep-ing, fond - ly 
hopes that fill the past; Peer -ing, peer- ing, gen - tly 



aifetia^e 



% 



-^- 



-^5^ 



-1$*- 



W- 



-^ 



;^¥-^ 









n — ^ 


rH — ~i 


1 '" 


N* 


keep - 
near - 

ii— "R— # 


-lur- 
ing 
ing 

— ^ , 


<5>r- 

•■sr 
Se - 
To 


— -« — 
— *— 

crets 
our 

• 


- J- ^ 

[:_^5i #1^ 

from both 
prom - ised 


-^ — •- 

^ s^ ^ 

friends and 
joys at 

r^5 ^-n 


1 1 — 

foe. 
last. 

1 — ^ — 


A- - 


^ffc'-S F 


-^ 


—w- 


'/? » 


^ P 


v-l 


y 5 ■ 


^ 


r- 






~P= 


-^^ 



Chokus. 



—ft — gy 



-^ 



dz: 



-^-^ 



--^T^-7^ 



-jQr 



-7T 



^^ 



Dream - ing, dream - ing, Al-ways pleas-ure bring - ing, 



9^y 



.^i. 









'S*- 



-S 



^ 



(14) 



! 

714 



-s^ 



■?± 



-^■!~, 



L^.^- 



DREAMING, DREAMING. 




Oh! what pleasure in our dreams, In our dreams. 



-^-, 



&r 



G^- 



:s^ 



-!^- — 



:g: 



^V 



^:i_L^i. 






J. N. W. 



WORK FOR JESUS. 



J. N, Whybark. By per. 




my broth - er, are 
en when we feel 
the last great day 



9rf 



you will-ing, Will - ing 

dis - cour-aged, As we 

of jndg-ment, When we 

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now to 
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reach the 



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work and do 
o'er our cares, 
gold - en gate, 

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Lit - tie things asked 
Could we not but 
Will our lamps be 



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by thy Sav - ior, That He may then com - fort you? 
e'er re-mem-ber, God will al - ways an-swerpray'rs. 
trimmed and burn -ing, Shall the an -swer be "Too late." 



•#- ■#- 









(15) 



715 



J. N. W. 



Solo. 



NELLIE'S DREAM, 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 



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•^ 1. Mam - ma, they tell me that you must soon 
2. Last night Idreamed that my mam -ma had 

1 J 1 1 1 1 


die, 
gone, 

-•• 

N. -If 


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And then go to heav-en, far up in the sky; 
And left my dear pa - pa and Nel-lie a - lone; 



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And there with the an - gels, surround the great throne, 
Then, mamma, I eried, then pa - pa cried too; 

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BeSe 






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Where all are so hap-py; Oh, may 1 go 'long? 
'Twas on- ly but dreaming, O mam -ma, don't go. 



BES 



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(i6) 



716 



Rosalie Thompson. 
Duet. 

— -^-^ 



LONELY TO-NIGHT, LOVE. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 




1. Lone - ly to-night,lpve,thon'rtfar a-way, Beneath the 

2. Soft - ly the moonbeams smile from the sky, Sad - ly the 

3. Lone - ly to-night, love, tear - ful and sad, Pa-tient-ly 




a 



m 



A— N- 



-X— N 



moon-light's bright silv'ry ray, Sail -ing the o - cean, 
low wind mur-mur ing sigh, These can-not harm me, 
wait - ing my sail-or lad, Pray - ing that heav - en 




brav- ing the tide, While I wait for thee, thy promised bride, 
all things are drear, I am ev-er sad, thou art not here, 
will guide him home To his bonnv bride, nev-er to roam. 




(I?) 



■«5*- 



717 



SHE FADED LIKE A FLOWER. 

(MIXKD QUARTET.) 



Mrs. Louise Suddic. 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 




9#gfc* 



1. She fad 

2. Tho' we 
3 When he, 

4. He wooed 

5. 'Twas iu 









-(Z- 



ed like a flow 

grew up to - geth 

the dark - eyed stran 

her but to leave 

the beau - teous a a 



-«- 



-a- 






er, My 

er, She 

ger, Came 

her; He 

tumn, When 

# 

-^ — 



-S- 




dar - ling and 
knew not that 
woo - ing otF 
court - ed to 
bloom- ing was 



mj^ No - na, Ere winter's storm-clouds 

I loved her; I kept the se - cret 
my No - na, I saw my dar-ling's 
de - ceive her; He broke her heart for- 
the gold -en-rod, They laid my dar-ling 






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low - er, My No - na and my 

from her; I knew she loved me 

dan - ger. For he cared not for 

ev - er; She fad - ed, drooped, and 

down to sleej) Be - neath the church - yard 






Cl- 



-,— (2- 



love. 

not. 

her. 

died. 

sod. 



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^ 



(i8) 



718 



SHE FADED LIKE A FLOWER. 



Chokus. 




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she fad - ed from my 

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sight a - way, — Too pure, too beau - ti - ful on 



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earth to stay; The an - gels con-veyed to the 




E - den a - bove, My No - na, my on - ly love. 



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(19) 



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719 



p 



NOT ALONE. 

Julia A. Williams. J. N. Whybark. By per. 

1 N _ _ !V I (k^ k^ 



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Pt 



* 



1. Am I a - lone? No voice I hear, Yet something 

2. No, not a - lone; tho' loved ones all Are far be- 

3. No, not a -lone: that can - not be, Tho' ev - 'ry 

' ^s- • ^a- ^a_ ^A- -A- • ^A. .A. .A- 



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whis - pers soft and clear: The Lord thy God is al - ways 
yond my fee -ble call, The Lord is near, whate'er be- 
liv - ing thing should flee, His presence still would comfort 

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near; Thou'rt not 
fall ; I'm not 

me; I'm not 



a - lone, 
a - lone, 
a - lone, 



thou'rt not 
I'm not 
I'm not 



lone, 
lone, 
lone. 



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EVENING SONG. 

Arr. by J. N. Whybark. By 

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per. 

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1. Soft - ly now the light 

2. Soon from us the light 



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of day Fades 

of day Will 

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up- 
for- 



(20) 



720 



EVENING SONG. 




on 
ev 

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my sight a - way; 
er pass a - way; 

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Free from care, from 
Then, from sin and 



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la - bor free, Lord, we would draw near to Thee, 
sor - row free, Take us, Lord, to dwell with Thee. 



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JESUS, LOVING SAVIOR. 



J. N. Whyeark. By per. 




1. Je - sus, lov-ing Sav - ior, Gen-tly lead us home; 

2, Oft-times in our weak-ness, How we stray from Thee; 



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For Thou art our Shep- herd, Thou canst help a - lone. 
O di - rect and keep us From all sin so free. 



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(21) 



?=T^ 



721 



J. N. W. 

Prayerfully. 



THOU DOST SEE US. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 



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3. We 

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clear 
how 
are 


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Je - 

sweet 

weak 

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sus, 

when 

and 


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Thou dost see us; 

in Thy pres - ence, 

we are help -less, 
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Now ThY 
To in- 
Al - ways 
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lov - ing 
hale Thy 
need Thy 



care be - stow 
Spir - it pure; 
ten - der care; 



On Thy 
When we 
Prone to 



chil - dren 
have Tliy 
wan - der, 




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Lead us 
All the 



who are help - less; Lead us safe - ly here 
strength and guid-ance, All the world we can 
and nia}^ per- ish; Wilt Thou hear our eve- 



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be - low. 

en - dure. 

ning praver? 

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J. N. W. 



ONE AND ALL, 



J. N. Whybark. By per. 




^ 7 ^ 



1^ -2?- 

1. God will bless the saddened heart, He will sat - is - 

2. God will bless, tho' w^eak we are, Tho' we stray a - 

3. God who sent His Son to die, From His throne up 
-* ^ , a .—^ , ^ #_. 



iiizi: 



-<9- 



(22) 



722 



ONE AND ALL. 







fy each part; Tlio' we're weak and sin- ful, He is ev - er 
way a - far; If we on - ly trust Him, Pray and ask for- 
in the sky, Ten-der, lov- ing Sav - ior, On the cross He 

— ^ — « -a- 



t—r 







faith - fuL For He loves His chil - dren 
give - ness, He will ev - er bless us, 
suf- fered, Ran-som for the sin-ners, 

* e s :s *— 






&: 



One 
One 
One 

jt 



and all. 
and all. 
and all. 



J. N. w. 



< ,^ ,^ , , . 

LEAD ME, SAVIOR. 

J. N. Whybark. By per. 

--1- ■ ' ^ 




1. Lead me, Savior, on life's pathway, Lead me, Sav-ior, lest I stray; 

2. Teach my lips to sing Thy praises, Move the mist, that I may see; 






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f 



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Let me in Thy precious fa-vor, Lead me, guide me. all the way. 
Comfort me when I am wea-ry, Sav-ior, now I come to Thee. 






^i. 



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I 



(23) 



723 



HE CARETH FOR ME. 



Alice P. Dunlap. 

Duet. 



J. N. Whyeark. By per. 




^ 






1. The Fa - ther know-eth all 

2. He car - etn for the lit 

3. The grass - es, wav - ing in 

4. Then how much more shall He 

5. Seek first of all His king 



your need, O 

tie birds That 

the light, With 

clothe thee, Thou 

• dom here, O 



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f 



child of want and sor - row! The Lord Him - self your 

flit o'er vale and mead - ow ; And cloth - eth all the 

heav - y grain and gold - en. Pro-claim a - gain His 

fa - vored one of heav - en! Canst thou not trust His 

child of want and sor- row! And "fear not, "for thy 




n + 


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J 


cause doth plead, 
lil - lies fair 
care and might 
ten - der love. 
Fa - ther's care 


Then fear 

Op-'ning 

, The sto ■ 

With such 

Will reach 


not 
in 
■ ry 
as - 
each 


for 
light 
glad 
sur - 
new 

1 


the 

or 
and 
ance 

to - 


mor - row. 
shad - ow. 
old - en. 
giv - en? 
mor - rovr. 




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(24) 



724 



Contents. 



Page 

Pref actory Notice 7 

Prelude to Drama 25 

Dramatis Personse 37 

Drama Proper 38 



Ipoeme* 



Patriotic. 

Army, The Grand 132—145 

Blue or Gray 95 

Cuba ; 97 

Dewey at Manila lOJ 

Death, A Living 136 

Eagle American The 140 

Flag of the Free, The 107 

Grant 113 

Garfield .... 118 

Kansas 134 

Lincoln 115 

Maine, Battleship The 128 

Ne'er Came Back, He 122 

President, The 125 

South, The 133 

Union, The 142 

Washington 147—148 

Wyoming . . . . 135 

725 

(46) 



Oswego. 

Page 

Accident, Skater's , 162 

Ceremony, Marriage , 154 

Carrel, Mr 155 

Chicken, The Picnic 166 

Caldwell, Dr. William 186 

Hotel, City 180 

Hotel, An 187 

Larkin 151 

Lover's Leap 152 

Moneyed and Moneyless 178 

Marriage Fee Presented 184 

Neosho 156 

Oswego 159 

Place, Charmed A 150 

Pansies Presented 173 

Read, Merrit C • 169 

Eead, E. T 175 

Wandering Willie from Heaven 181 

Walk, The Morning 176 

Wedding, The China 183 

What a Dollar Did 170 

liove 

City Chap and Cora, That 193 

Certainty — 213 

I Dreamed that Love was Dead 211 

Flo's Summer Friend. 196 

Fair, My 207 

Flirt, The Grcntleman 241 

Flirt, The Lady 239 

Gift, No New Year's 203 

My Mary ... 219 

Millionaire, The Young 221 

Lef t. She for a Eicher Man 191 

Loved I Her but She Left Me 198 

Lee, Katie and Charlie Way 201 

726 



■r . -.. Page 

Love, Adieu My . . 205 

Lover's Lament, The 242 

Love Hath Lost Its Charms for Me 247 

Poor But Happy 206 

Queen, My.. "" J39 

Eescued 265 

Woman, I Love The ..." 208 

Without a Wife ' * . 214 

With a Wife .^ 2I6 

Wooed to Wed His Own Wife 249 

Williows, Under The ' ' 238 

Slave. 

He Sold His Own Blood 465 

I Promised Not to Tell Massy 474 

The Unsold Slave ...[ 470 

Minister's Department. 

Clear and Clean 430 

Divine and Dorian, The Deacon's Daughter, The . . 495 

The Minister's Picnic 492 

The Minister in His Study 484 

The Preacher's Poverty 50$ 

The Great Quartette ^ 490 

Memorium. 

Barrick, Ida F 55q 

Baby Gone 5^8 

Caroline 5gQ 

Caldwell, Mrs. Malissa 574 

Darling, Somebody's 576 

Drowned ' * " 5^^ 

Hopkins, Geo. Horaze \,[\ 566 

Harrison, Mrs. Dolly '.,'* 564 

Jennings, Mrs. Flora E * 535 

Jones, Mrs. Rebecca 56o 

Karnes, Merton L ' ' 555 

727 



Page 

Love's Asleep, My 562 

Parks, Harvey H 570 

Stice, Edith Florine 588 

Silkey, Mrs. Mary 583 

Year After A 538 

Temperance. 

Curse of Curses, The 590 

Drunkard, The 597 

Drunkard's Daughter, The 600 

Wife, Tlie Drunkard's 593 

Woman. 

Bible, My Mother's 458 

Doubly Dead 427 

Deaf and Dumb 454 

I Could Not Call Her Mother 450 

My Mother 438 

Mary, The Unselfish Hostess '. — 432 

Meeting Mother in Heaven 452 

Nana - . - - 448 

Ollie 435 

Pauline, Nellie 442 

Sway, Woman's - 456 

Son and Daughter, Prodigal 423 

Woman 441 

World and Woman, The 461 

Wonderful and Woman, The 463 

Religious. 

All for Self 325 

Abraham Offer's Isaac 326 

Ashamed of Jesus 293 

Address to the Bible 311 

Alone, Not 314 

Bended Bow, The 399 

Christ Died 328 

728 



Page 

Christ Educated 331 

Christ Ordained 333 

Christs' Creed 336 

Cliurchless 338 

Crowds, Two 378 

Commission, The Great 382 

Cash Christian, The 383 

Church Behind, The *. 280 

Cliurch Crystalized, A ■ 304 

Crawford, Eev. J. T 421 

Cross, The 309 

Collection, The 310 

Christ Denied 316 

Christ, or Love Incarnate 413 

Columbus, or Liberty Incarnate 417 

Deaconless 340 

Debt, God's 404 

P'aith E'ot Hope 342 

Fight, A 401 

God Do His Best, Did 387 

Garment, No Wedding 369 

God Forsakes Not His Own : 344 

He Shied 398 

Heaven 324 

I'm Tired ., 294 

I'm Praying For You 385 

Jesus in the Manager 346 

Jesus Wept 350 

John Jones on Jehovah Just 352 

Jesus Seeking the Lost 361 

Kingdom Not of Earth, My 366 

Know Thyself 406 

Love of God 363 

Light From Christ 365 

Mystery 391 

Moses or Light 408 

729 



Page 

Nobility, Our 296 

Orthodox 323 

Pastorless . . 371 

People, Small 302 

Past, The 320 

Eeiigion, Our 313 

Eeligion 334—373 

Resolution 322 

Revised 318 

Schooless 376 

Sowing and Reaping 374 

Son of God, The 284 

Stingy Saint at Service, The 286 

Sighted in Heaven 306 

Trinity, The 282 

Teach Me Knov7 397 

Tongue, That '. 319 

Trusts in Heaven, Ko 393 

Used-To-Be, A 300 

What Part of God am I? 289 

What Owest Thou Jesus 291 

Worlds, Two 298 

Conscience. 

Conscience, Ode to " 

Despair 

Guilt .. . 

Innocence 

That Voice 

Children's. 

Burnett, Ida May 

Baby, That 

Child, The Sick 

Creasy, Bertie H 

Doll, Essie Disch's 

Dog, My , ; . . 

730 



273 

272 
274 
277 
270 



528 
519 
529 
526 
517 
536 



Page 

Dorothy 523 

Doll, My 518 

Day, The First at School 510 

Man, Mamma's Little 511 

Marion, Our 530 

Pupil, The I^ew 514 

Picture of a Little Girl, A 532 

Parks Dimple Miller, Ethel 537 

Riding Horseback 516 

Tear, The Baby's 531 

Virginia 521 

May, Di mple Bessie . . 533 

Farm Department. 

Appeal, Tbe Poor Man's 616 

Boy, Clarence, The Farmer's 604 

Great On Farms Are Made, The 606 

Hands, The Farmer's 602 

Return, The Farmer's 612 

Snag, The Old 609 

Way, The Farmer's 603 

FraternaL 

Brotherhood 635 

Demitted Not Dislodged 642 

Fellows, Odd 620 

Knights of Pythias 631 

Masonry, Free 622 

A. O. U. W 633 

Neighbors, Royal — 637 

Pyramids, The 629 

Rebekahs, The 621 

Sons and Daughters of Justice 638 

Star, The Eastern 640 

Woodmen. 625 

731 



National. 

Page 

Canada 644 

England 646 

France — 655 

GJ-ermany 653 

Gladstone .... 662 

Ireland 648 

Italy 699 

Sweden 654 

Scotland 651 

Tennyson, To 663 

Union 664 

Victoria, Queen 658 

Miscellaneous. 

Buyer. Horse ... 693 

Cloud, The 678 

God Gave Us, What 682 

Harris, Edwin R 669 

I'm Free 683 

Klondykes Hidden . . 673 

Lark, English Meadow .' 666 

Lucey, Elmer. ^ 668 

Not My Own 691 

Purity and Power 685 

Somebody Knows 671 

Whybark, Prof. J. I^. 670 

Then Not Now 686 

Up in a Balloon..: ... 688 

Let Me Know When I Cross 696 

Songs. 

All Rights Reserved by Prof. J. N. Whybark, Carthage, Mo. 

1 Pleasure in Singing 701 

2 Ashamed of Jesus 702 

3 Scatter Sunshine, (Male Quartette) 703 

4 The Woodmen (Male Quartette) 704 

732 



Page 

5 Tell Me Not 705 

6 My Doll 706 

7 Little Essie 708 

8 Alone in the Forest .709 

9 Go To Sleep 710 

10 Old Dusty Garment ' 711 

11 The River Side 712 

12 One Little Word 713 

13 Dreaming, Dreaming. 714 

14 Work for Jesus 715 

15 Nellie's Dream 716 

16 Lonely To-Night, Love 717 

17 She Faded Like a Flower (Mixed Quartette). . . 718 

18 Not Alone 720 

19 Evening Song 721 

20 Jesus Loving Savior = 721 

21 Dost Thou See Us ; 722 

22 One and All 722 

23 Lead Me Savior , 723 

24 He Careth For Me 724 



733 



Q. W. MATHEWS. MARION PARKS. 

R6al Uim and Insurance Firm, 

OSWEGO, KANSAS. 

Insure your property with agents you 
know. Mathews & Parks have lived in 
this community for over 30 years, and 
represent only Reliable and Tried Compa- 
nies. They Loan Money on Real Estate 
for 5, 7 or 10 years at the very Lowest 
Rate of interest* They also have some 
Fine Farms for Sale on Easy Terms. 

MatDGws & Parks. 






DRUGS, 

WALL PAPER, 

PAINTS, 

TOILET SUPPLIES, 

PRESCRIPTIONS. 

737 




(47) 



Who Leads... 

In the Hat, Shoe and Fur- 
nishing Goods Business... 

J. F. Waskey, oswego, Kas. 



? 



'WHY?' 



Because the goods he buys are strictly up-to-date, 
just what they seem to be and are never misrepresented. 
They are sold for cash only, at a very small advance over 
cost. As a consequence of all this, Waskey's is the popular 
store with those who seek full value for money paid out. 



W. S. Newlok, M. D. Will B. Newlon, M. D. 

NE\S^LON DRUG CO., 

(Established 1868.) 
^^•^%^CENERAL DEALERS iN^%K«^%. 

Drugs, Medicines, 

Chemicals, Paints, 

Oils, Varnishes, 

Glass, i—i 

School Books, 

Wall Paper. 

MANUFACTURERS OF NON- SECRET MEDICINES. 

Court House Square, Oswego, Kansas. 

738 






that never fails to accommodate the pub- 
lic day or night, are part of the 
Livery Establishment 

OF 

-A. 1 ^ :x: ^ r:i d e^ r^ Ivic? O uill^r. 

Phone No. 60. 



THE MOST MODERN METHODS 

IN 

Photography 



ARE EMPLOYED BY 




E. 


R. 


Rose, 

OF OSWEGO, KANSAS 


And tliat accounts for his increased business 
and popularity with parties from all sections. 




See Ibis Morft. 

739 



WE PAY CASH 

For Country Produce of all Kinds. 
We make a specialty of Choice But= 
ter, Fresh Eggs and Live Poultry. 
Our Groceries are Clean, Fresh and 
of Standard Quality. 

OUR PRICES 

Are Right. Goods delivered pronipt= 
ly to any part of the city. 

J.H.DANIELS 

Oswego, Kansas, ^^ ^^ Cj INI 

Telephone No. 23. V* V^ ViX I H i 



J. B, PIERCE, 





» > 



OSWEQO, KANSAS, 



„„„„ (1 GMl insiiiGe Business, fexrinst! 

ance Companies in the United States, and writes Insurance 
at the Lowest Possible Living Kates. Deals in all kinds of 
Real Estate. Stocks of Goods to sell or exchange. Office 
over Daniels & Son's store, opposite Deming Investment 
Company. Tel. No. 29. 

T40 



Made Rigt^t prouidin g 

they purchase their Bonnets from 
our New Millinery Stock, espec- 
ially selected to gratify the artis- 
tic taste of each lady. Due Bills 
received the same as cash, is an- 
other inducement oifered, and our 
trimmer will guarantee each hat. 

ROBISON Sc HOOWeR 

Oswego, . . . Kansas. 



J. Q. Bradley, 



Agent, 



O 
5 
W 
E 
Q 




INcWORK 



low PRICES 




ROMPT ATTENTION 
'fREE-DELIVERY 



17 

pARSONS 



K 
A 

N 
S 
A 

5 



741 



...RESULTS ARE SURE... 

m € 

if you have your Prescriptions filled by 
competent pharmacists who use only the 
Purest Drugs. Another great advantage 
for the affl-icted people is to buy 

STANDARD PATENT MEDICINES 

that are recently compounded, thereby 
causing a quick and permanent cure. We 
have the best preparations. Over thirty 
years in the drug business in one city is 
suffl-cient testimonial of our worth. Make 

OUR STORE YOUR HEADQUARTERS. 



W. S. FISHER, 




OSWEGO, KANSAS. 

Horses and flules Bought and Sold. 

Rubber Tire Rigs and Good Horses. 

Special Attention Given to the 

^ Traveling Public ^ 

TEL. NO. 76 

742 



delivered free at your door every day. 
Patrons are assured Bread noted for 
its lightness and substance, and 
Pastry home-like in every particular. 

^ prepared on short order. jc 

K. J. Martin, Oswego, Kas. 

Phone. No. 50. 



;^Mie^^ 



®6wego fllbilling Co 



0$Ui€60, KJinsjis, 



OSWEGO ROLLER HILLS 

Wheat Qoods 

Flour Bran 

Ships 

743 



Geo. P. Bush, 



.DEALER IN... 



PURE: DRUCaS 

AND CHEMICALS, 

CHETOPA, KAS. 

ALSO CARRIES a Full Line of Paints, 
Oils, Varnishes, Brushes, Patent Medi- 
cines, Toilet Articles, and everything 
usually kept in a First-class drug store. 

PRESCRIPTIONS GftREFULLY COMPOUNDED. 




Tel^EQai^ 



The Dry Goods Merchant and Clothier 

...of... 

Chetopa, Kansas, 



IS 



The Distributor of Best Goods at Lowest Prices. 

Novelties in all kinds of ladies* wearing apparel, 

Agent for the best makes of footwear, 

Large stock of carpets and mattings* 

744 



Dr. Geo. T. Boon, 

BEMTDST 



o o 




Gold Filling, 
Plate, Crown and 
Bridgework a Specialty. 




CHFTOPA KANT Omce over Sellgsberg's store 

V^JTIJ:- 1 ^rX\, IV/\iN . Next door to PBstoffine 



CbemicalSt 

Stationeris, 

5)ruggf6ts Sun^rieSt 

IPertumeriSt Soaps, 

toilet anD jfancis Brttcles, Btc. 

Cbetopa . . ikaneaa. 

745 



im 




J }j^aMA^^oc/i:(^j^ 




>"-^. 



J. Harry Evans, 

Main 5t. bet. 6th and 7th, 

Telephone No. 56. 



Country Produce 

of 

All Kinds, 

jQKeaspeGloiiyoi.. 

choice butter, 

fresh eggs, 

and 

live poultry. 

1 

t My Croceries 

are clean, fresh 

and of 
standard quality* 

j CQiiooifieoFifiile 

for prices. 

THE GROCER, 
Chetopa, Kansas. 



I have about 50 farms for sale, from 10 
to 800 acres each. If you want to buy a 
good place with good water and timber, 
very cheap, write me for descriptions of 

FARMS AND CITY PROPERTY. 
Money to loan on long or short time. Home 
or Eastern funds. Write for land list. 

, :B. cook, Chetopa, Kans. 

746 



J 



Complete Line of 



Stationery, 
Jewelry ^•"^ 
Wall Paper 



..Always in Stock. 



( Parties desirous of buying novelties in Jewelry ) 
\ should see the many handsome designs in ster- [• 
( ling silver and solid gold. All goods are of ) 

SUPERIOR QUALITY. 



B. F. HARRISON, Oswego, Kansas. 




HOMES MADE HAPPY 



by the expenditure of a small amount of money. 
From every point of view we challenge any store 
to show a handsomer assortment of 
FURNITURE 
quality considered, than we present, 
and if more "Wronged Women" would patronize 
us we would take pleasure in furnishing their 
homes and assure them no dissatisfaction would 
ever occur. Call and see our new goods. 

J. N. UtterSOD, osiego, kansas. 

747 



0. E. NEES, 




]''^1U0?\ 



Oswego, 
Kansas. 



Competent cutter and fitter 
and practical workman, also 
cleaning, pressing and repairing 
promptly done. 



Satisfaction 

Guaranteed. 



748 



I 



give 



no internal medicine. 



We 




select the best 

methods from the fields 
of Scientific Investiga= 
tion, but depend princi= 
pally on 

PSYCHOLOGY 

and 

VITAL HAQNETISM. 

Office Hours: 8 a. m. to 4 
p. m. , except Sunday. 

not to promise what we think we cannot fulfil. SATISFY 
YOURSELF about absent treatments. It will only cost 

I am not able to state here the benefit IJiave re- 
ceived from Prof. Steiner^s Absent Treatment, but am 
luilUng to explain to ladies lulio may ivrite to me en- 
closing stamp. MISS JENNIE CAMPBELL, 

386 Hoiuell Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio. 

I live five miles south of Osivego, Kansas. I was 
cured of Rheumatism by the Absent Treatment given 
by Prof Steiner, in less than one month, last Septem- 
ber, and have not had a return since. 

GEORGE BUEHLER. 

Write for particulars and testimonials. Enclose stamp. 

PROF. STEINER, Oswego, Kansas* 

Box 475. If in Oswego, call at the National Hotel, Prof. Steiner, Prop. 

749 



/ 



MAY 23 1901 



